You Better Not Cry
by tm-nyt
Summary: Based on S2Ep10 spoilers from after Ep6.  Santana is the one who tries to keep Brittany believing in Santa, and starts to realize she wants more than friendship.  But Brittany and Artie are happily dating, and Santana's not exactly a smooth operator.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I read the summary of Episode 10 after seeing Never Been Kissed and it kind of made me (more) mad. So I wrote this story to make myself feel better. It kinda sorta follows the spoilers but then goes off track.

**Update 12/9/10:** I started writing this after Episode 6 so it really doesn't follow the real plot after that.

* * *

"Okay guys, since we just did great at Sectionals and the holidays are coming up, I thought we'd take a break and do Christmas songs!" Mr. Schuester announced to the glee club.

"Mr. Schue, with all due respect, this is a public school," protested Kurt. "The ACLU might have a problem with that."

Rachel perked up. "I have contacts if you need them," she said to Kurt.

"Hello? Jew?" Puck said, waving his hand and pointing to himself.

"Well okay guys, well how about a _holiday season_ week where we do _holiday_ songs, that don't have to be about religion, and in fact you can just sing about the season or Santa Claus if you like." There was some grumbling and some murmurs of excitement.

Brittany said, "I don't want to. I hate Christmas." Everyone was shocked into silence, and Artie reached out to hold her hand. Santana's hand twitched, but she was sitting all the way across the room.

"But why?" asked Tina.

"Last night she saw Sue's Corner," said Santana.

* * *

"The holidays. A time of goodwill on Earth, and peace among men. Well, Northwest Ohio, I say bah humbug to that. Call me a Scrooge, but everywhere you go it's peace and joy, joy and peace, ho ho ho. I can't even wear my favorite red and green tracksuit without someone saying, 'Merry Christmas!' at me. It's disgusting. And Santa Claus! A judgmental glutton, if you ask me. If there's anyone who should be judging the moral character of the children of Earth, it's me, Sue Sylvester. And by the way kids? Santa? Not real. Nope. That ugly snowman sweater came from your spinster aunt Millie in Dayton. That digital picture frame from the Sharper Image that you'll put in a corner and never use? Your great-uncle Philip in Kalamazoo. Oh you say you got a new football, little Jimmy? That's from your dear old Dad, who desperately hopes you're not gay. Santa is no more than a bloated figment of the collective imagination of millions of greedy, materialistic tykes with weak willed parents. And that's how Sue sees it."

* * *

"She said Santa wasn't real," said Brittany sadly. Mr. Schuester and the rest of the glee club were slack jawed.

"Brittany, you mean you think Santa is real?" asked Mercedes.

"Isn't he?" Brittany said uncertainly.

"Uh, n- oof!" Sam rubbed his side where Santana had jabbed her elbow into it.

Artie spoke up. "Maybe Sue was just kidding, Brittany." He looked around to everyone else with a "come on, back me up here" expression.

"Yeah! Yeah, Santa is totally real," said Finn. "I saw him at the mall just last week."

* * *

Rachel and Finn walked through the Lima Mall, holding hands and oohing and aahing at all of the fake snow, tinsel, and giant plastic ornaments hanging from the ceiling. "Isn't it wonderful Finn, all the Christmas spirit? Even though I'm Jewish, it gives me so many reasons to sing in public."

"Yeah." Finn smiled down at her and turned to see the line of children waiting to tell the mall Santa what they wanted for Christmas. "Hey, isn't that Mr. Ryerson?" His face screwed up in confusion. They walked closer to find out.

Santa – aka Sandy Ryerson – adjusted his fake beard and waved his hand at the next child in line. "Why little girl, you look like an absolute porcelain delight, just like one of my vast collection." The little girl prattled on for a while, and Mr. Ryerson clearly was getting bored. "Yes, yes, Hannah Montana karaoke, I just do not understand the taste of kids these days, very good, next!"

"Hey Santa!" Finn and Rachel stood beyond the red and green rope barrier and waved. Mr. Ryerson started and tried to shrink behind his giant candy-cane striped Santa chair, but to no avail. Giving up, he dropped his Santa facade for a few seconds and swooshed his Santa-caped self over to the rope.

"Shh! Now that the arts department has been snatched from my loving grasp, I have to live somehow. Those dolls don't dress themselves you know. Now get away from my stage, please!"

* * *

"Yes, we did indeed, we saw Santa," nodded Rachel.

"That's not Santa at the mall, that's Mr. Ryerson. I'm not that stupid," Brittany sniffed. "But Sue wouldn't lie..."

The others looked at each other. "Well actually -" started Mr. Schue, but stopped when he saw Santana's glare. "I'm sure Artie's right, she's just kidding."

"Okay," said Brittany, but she sounded skeptical. "Thanks Artie." She gave him a hug. Santana narrowed her eyes.

* * *

**A/N:** Chapter 1 done! I bet this will turn out nothing like the real episode but it made me feel better to write it. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Wow thanks for reading and reviewing everyone! Sorry this chapter is so short, I will try to have another one up today or tomorrow. Btw: STILL SPOILERY!

* * *

At lunchtime the next day, Santana and Brittany were standing in line with their trays and their Sue Sylvester master cleanse bottles. They got their lunches (with only lowfat and lean protein foods) and went to sit in the cafeteria. Artie and Mercedes and Kurt were sitting together and Brittany waved at them and started walking over to sit with them. Santana rolled her eyes and sighed but followed Brittany to the table, where Brittany sat down next to Artie and smiled at him. Santana tried not to grind her teeth and sat next to Brittany.

Santana was trying to flick little wads of paper into Mercedes's mashed potatoes and Brittany was talking about some show she saw on TV where all the animals would do crazy things like headbutt each other or do weird dances and then have sex and then sometimes eat each other, when Mercedes suddenly asked, "Brittany, you don't really hate Christmas do you?"

Brittany's face turned from sunny and happy to sad and gloomy. "I do," she said dully. "I was a child and I believed in childish things. Now all my illusions are shattered like a cheerleading trophy smashed into a wall."

"Britt, let me give you some advice," Kurt said. "When I was at Dalton, they had this policy-"

Mercedes sighed like she had heard this a thousand times already.

"Fine," sniffed Kurt. "The point is, be true to yourself, Brittany. Don't let other people tell you what to believe."

"Yeah, we all have to believe in something," said Mercedes. "You can still believe in Santa Claus. He makes kids happy, and there's nothing wrong with that."

"And you know Sue exaggerates," said Kurt. "Remember the time she said our competition at Nationals would shriek in fear and wet their Spanx when they saw us?"

"One person did," Brittany pointed out.

"Doesn't count," Santana said. "Sue threatens to have people drawn and quartered all the time, I don't know why that girl took it so personally." She opened her mouth like she was going to keep talking, and sort of looked around awkwardly, but she kept talking. "And you know you always have fun when we open presents together on Christmas morning."

"Don't let Sue get you down, Britt," Artie said. "We all just want you to be happy."

Brittany looked a little more cheerful and Artie patted her hand. Santana noticed this and froze in the middle of reaching across the table pretending to grab the salt shaker. (It was actually to drop a piece of pompom plastic on Mercedes's plate.)

"Hey!" said Mercedes. She slapped Santana's hand and Santana jerked back. Everyone laughed and Santana glared all around her, but she saved an especially angry glare for Artie, just because.

(~)

They went to Cheerios practice after school and Brittany seemed to be feeling much better, acting like her normal self even when someone mentioned the holidays, so Santana was pretty relieved. On they way out, Brittany even smiled as she told Santana that their pyramid was like a big human Christmas tree and that maybe they should get giant ornaments to hold. But she didn't notice that Sue Sylvester heard their conversation as they walked by.

_This holiday nonsense is sucking away the killer competitive spirit we need to crush our opposition. Something must be done_, Sue thought to herself as she watched the smiling and laughing cheerleaders leave the gym.

* * *

**A/N; **Oops, pretend Kurt went away to Dalton and came back after sectionals. Haha, I forgot about that part...


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Chapter 3! It's kind of short again, I promise the next chapter will be longer...

* * *

That Friday afternoon Santana and Brittany were walking through the halls, about to leave school. Their pinkies were linked together and their hands were swinging between them.

"Hey Britt, want to come over tonight? Puck's got his fight club, so I thought we could, you know..."

"I can't. I have a date."

Santana stopped in her tracks. "What? With who?"

"Artie."

"_Artie_? Where?"

"He's taking me to this new place, it's called The Pie Warehouse. People were saying it's better than Breadstix."

"What?" Santana was astonished. "Better than Breadstix?"

"Uh huh." Brittany nodded. "They say it's where all the cool kids from Carmel like to go now. I heard they make the pies right at your table!" Her eyes were wide with excitement.

Santana stopped for a second to wonder how they did that- were there little ovens at each table?- but she decided to change the subject to the second most shocking thing Brittany had just said.

"Whatever. Anyway Brittany, what is up with your obsession with Robot Jox? I thought he treated you like dirt and dumped you?" There was a funny red haze creeping into Santana's vision, and she clenched her fists.

"He said he was sorry and that he wanted to try again to be a good boyfriend. So I said okay." Brittany shrugged.

"Let me get this straight. You're blowing me off to go suck face with that... that nerd?" Santana was almost shaking, she was so beside herself that she couldn't even think of a good insult.

"Artie's different. Everyone else just wants to make out and have sex," and here Santana suddenly felt guilty, "but Artie's trying to be like, romantic and stuff. He even gave me flowers today, see?" Brittany pulled out three intricately folded origami flowers from her backpack and showed them to Santana.

Romance? Since when did Brittany want romance? They had always used to laugh at the boys who tried to write poems for girls and that kind of sappy stuff. "Brittany, since when did you want romance? We always laughed at the boys who wrote poems for girls and that kind of sappy stuff. And those flowers aren't even real," she said meanly.

Brittany looked hurt. "Well maybe I do want it now. It's nice to have a boyfriend who wants to do nice things for me and spend time with me. And not just because he doesn't have anyone better to do. I like him a lot and he likes me a lot," Brittany said. She turned away and started walking, leaving Santana standing in the hall with her mouth hanging open.

_I like you more than he likes you!_ Santana wanted to say. But she couldn't get the words to come out of her mouth, and she wasn't even totally sure what she meant by them anyway, so she just frowned and ran to catch up with Brittany.


	4. Chapter 4

During their American History class on Monday, Santana and Brittany were sitting together and drawing little pictures of football players on Brittany's notes when the intercom crackled.

"Attention students, this is your principal," came the voice of Principal Figgins. "Coach Sylvester has a very important announcement which she would like to share with you."

Sue's voice was heard. "Thank you Principal Figgins, this almost makes up for your cutting my budget. Almost. Every day at random times over the next few days I will be making a series of announcements to inform you, the woefully naive and credulous students of McKinley High, about why there is nothing at all to celebrate about the season, except for the fact that I will not have to stare at your greasy wispy haired faces for two weeks-"

"Sue! This was not in the preapproved script," said Figgins's voice. There was a shuffling sound of what seemed like a microphone being pulled back and forth, then a thumping sound.

Sue's voice continued. "Ahem. Now let me tell you something about Christmas-"

At that Santana's eyes widened and she quickly put her hands over Brittany's ears. Brittany tried to turn to look at her and Santana had to twist and turn to try to keep her hands in place while Sue went on about "jolly old St. Chimney Sneak."

"Santana, what are you doing?" whispered Brittany.

"Nothing!" Santana said, then realized Brittany couldn't hear her. "Uh. _YOUR EARS LOOK COLD_," she mouthed at Brittany, gesturing at Brittany's ears with her chin.

Brittany laughed. "Silly, we're indoors, my ears aren't cold. You can take your hands off. Or you know, put them somewhere else." Brittany briefly looked down at her own chest, and Santana stopped to consider that option for a few moments before remembering why she was trying to keep Brittany from listening to Sue.

"What?" Santana said. She kept her hands over Brittany's ears; Sue was talking about "elf slavery." "_I CAN'T HEAR YOU_," she mouthed at Brittany silently, shaking her head.

"But-" Brittany was confused, and her ears were feeling awfully warm now.

"_SORRY. CAN'T HEAR YOU._" Santana mouthed exaggeratedly without making a sound . She shrugged her shoulders and made a "sorry" face.

Then the speaker clicked off, the teacher started talking again, and Santana dropped her hands in relief.

"Santana, what -"

"Shh, teacher's talking." Santana cut her off and suddenly looked very interested in Susan B. Anthony. Brittany shrugged and decided that her cartoon football player ought to have a friend in a wheelchair.

(~)

"Hey Frankenteen!" Finn felt himself being pulled sideways into an empty classroom by a mystery arm. It turned out that the arm belonged to Santana.

"Santana, it's very rude to steal my boyfriend away for a secret schoolday tryst with when I'm right next to him!" said Rachel, who had followed Finn in the door.

"Relax, littlest elf, I didn't see you in the shadow of this old-growth redwood. I'm not about to make out with him. Well, at least not until he gets a hotter girlfriend to bump up his status a little." She turned to Finn. "I need you to keep an eye on Brittany during Spanish."

"What for?"

"If she hears Sue ranting about Christmas and Santa again, she'll be upset. You have to distract her so she doesn't hear." Rachel was looking at her skeptically so Santana kept talking. "And you know Brittany's the best dancer in glee, and if she's too sad to dance, then it will ruin our group dance chemistry, and we can't have that."

Rachel seemed to accept this. "How exciting! A concerted effort among friends to preserve Brittany's innocence! Well, what remains of it."

"Whatever, just keep Brittany distracted." Finn and Rachel both stared at her. "Please," she bit out the word. Finn and Rachel both looked at each other, startled.

"Santana, you're being so... nice?" Finn asked.

"Bizarrely nice," said Rachel. "You haven't insulted my clothing once during this conversation."

Santana crossed her arms. "It's for Brittany," she grumbled.

"Well sure, we'll do it for Brittany," Finn agreed, and Rachel nodded conspiratorially.

"Never fear, we'll make absolutely certain that Brittany will-"

"Okay I'm tired of listening to you," said Santana, and she quickly left the room to go hunt down other glee club members. She and Brittany could skip a few classes, but not all of them for the next few days, and she couldn't be around all the time to make sure Brittany didn't hear any of Sue's rants. But if she could convince (or threaten or bribe) everyone in glee club to help out, maybe Brittany would stay happy until winter vacation started.

(~)

During art, everyone was working on finishing up their projects for the semester. Kurt was working on some kind of weird sculpture, Mercedes was making a metal necklace, and Brittany was carefully smoothing out her clay statue of her cat.

The intercom squealed. "Hmm – Principal Figgins, we should really upgrade this system. My words shouldn't be interrupted by faulty public school technology." Sue cleared her throat. "Test, test..."

Kurt and Mercedes glanced at each other and dove to pull things out of their backpacks.

"Brittany!" Kurt said. "Mercedes and I need a model for our winter fashions. Can you help us out?"

"Okay, but my hands are covered in clay..."

"Oh that's no problem girl, we'll do all the work," and then Mercedes clamped a pair of earmuffs on Brittany's head, and Kurt wound a scarf around her neck, all bundled up past her ears. It seemed like kind of a weird way to wear a scarf, but Kurt knew more about fashion than Brittany did.

Kurt stepped back to look at Brittany and shook his head, and then Mercedes made the earmuffs a little tighter. Kurt tilted his head and said something, but Brittany couldn't hear it very well. There was some kind of squawky noise that sounded like Sue too, but she couldn't make out the words. Mercedes put a warm knit cap on Brittany's head and and turned Brittany around in her chair so Kurt could see her. He took a long time to decide, but finally he nodded and said something to Mercedes. Then they took the hat, earmuffs, and scarf off, and Brittany could hear properly again.

"Thanks Brittany, you make a fantastic model. We won't be caught unfashionable in the cold this year," said Kurt a little too loudly and laughing weirdly. Mercedes gave him a sideways look.

"You're welcome," Brittany said to them, and turned back to her project. Her cat's ears were a little crooked so she tried to shape them better.

(~)

In English, Brittany was surprised when Rachel marched over to the person sitting next to her and said, "Excuse me, may I please have this seat today?" When the kid shrugged and moved, Rachel smiled at him, put her things down, and smiled at Brittany.

In her chemistry class, Santana got a text message from Brittany and made a face when she read it:

_I tnk Rchls flrtng w me_

Everyone was working quietly on their journal assignments when suddenly the intercom turned on.

"Students of William McKinley High School, it's Sue Sylvester-"

Rachel suddenly sat up from her paper. "Brittany! I was wondering what you thought of my choices for my next solo in glee!" From out of nowhere she pulled a pair of earbuds and an iPod and leaned way over into Brittany's personal space to shove them into Brittany's ears. It was some kind of loud dramatic ballad, and although Brittany liked it, Rachel didn't seem to be happy with just that and made her listen to three other songs too. Finally Rachel looked over her shoulder nervously and pulled the earbuds out.

"I liked them all Rachel. You'll sound good on any of them... the first one was the best though."

"Thank you so much. I do value your opinion Brittany." Rachel looked relieved and sat back in her seat.

Santana heard the announcement in her class and worried for a few minutes, but then she got another text message from Brittany:

_Rchl totly tnks im hot :D_

(~)

Brittany, Finn, and Quinn were working on dialogue exercises in Spanish when Sue's voice suddenly came over the loudspeaker.

"Attention students! This is your reigning national champion cheerleading coach, Sue Sylvester..." Finn looked at Quinn, a panicked expression on his face. He jumped straight up out of his seat.

"Aggghh! Acch! Ack!" He started coughing and hacking as loudly as he could, which was really loudly. Quinn shot a look at Brittany and jumped up too.

"Finn! Finn! _¡Ay dios mío!_ _Respire! Respire!_" Quinn shouted, also as loudly as she could, which was not quite as loudly as Finn.

Mr. Schuester turned a page in his magazine. "_Respira,_ Quinn, _respira,_" he called out without looking up. But Quinn kept yelling and Finn kept making "GRRAGHGCHK" noises and stumbling into tables and chairs, and Mr. Schuester suddenly realized maybe something was wrong. He jumped up and ran over to try to see if Finn was okay. In the background Sue was saying something, but no one noticed because everyone was staring at Finn and trying to get out of the way.

"Finn, are you all right? Can you breathe?" Mr Schuester whacked Finn on the back a couple times, which didn't seem to help. Finn nearly knocked over another table and Mr. Schue tried to grab Finn to stop him from crashing into things. Behind Mr. Schue's back, Quinn suddenly noticed that Sue had stopped talking, and made a "cut it out" motion across her throat. Finn's eyes widened. He stopped flailing and bent over double, taking a huge gasping breath.

"Sorry Mr. Schue," he coughed. "My Jolly Rancher kind of went down the wrong way. But it came back, don't worry." He walked back to his seat, apologizing and straightening furniture on the way.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the nurse?" asked Mr. Schuester with concern.

"No, no, I'm fine. Thanks," he said. Finn glanced at Quinn and sat down, and she nodded at him.

"Finn, are you really all right?" asked Brittany once the class had settled down.

"Yup. Everything is all clear," he said, and gave her a thumbs up.

(~)

After school Santana caught up to Puck outside the locker room. She was fuming mad.

"Dammit Puck, you were supposed to put the headphones _on her head!" _Santana shook a pair of huge noise canceling headphones at him angrily._  
_

"What? She thought they looked like some kind of crazy Madonna bra and wanted to try them out! What kind of stud would I be to stop her?"

"You idiot, she heard Sue's last holiday announcement and spent all of seventh period stabbing a chocolate Santa to pieces with her goofy pen. You had better! Fix! This!" She slapped his arm on each word.

"Ow! Fine! I'll figure something out tonight, okay? When we all go caroling?"

"You'd better, Puckerman."

* * *

**A/N:** Told you it would be longer. This chapter was fun to write. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Mr Schuester had scheduled the glee club to go sing at a local nursing home that evening in order to give back to the community, and then Rachel had suggested going caroling in the local neighborhood afterward to give even more back to the community. Whether the community actually wanted any more was not clear, but Mr. Schuester thought it was a great idea – though most of the others grumbled about having to walk around in the cold singing.

(~)

They had just finished their performance and were enjoying the audience's applause when Mr. Schue got a call on his cell phone. He walked over to the side of the room to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Will Schuester?" A long-suffering, droopy voice asked.

Mr. Schuester's forehead crinkled. "Howard? Howard Bamboo? What's going on?"

On the phone, Howard Bamboo sighed. "Can you bail me and Terri out of jail? It's a long story."

"What are you and Terri- never mind. I'll be there as soon as I can." He rubbed his temples. It seemed like his ex-wife would never stop intruding on his life.

"Please hurry. She's drunk and wants me to sing a duet of 'Fairytale of New York' with her. I don't think the others will like that." Howard whimpered.

(~)

Mr. Schuester jogged back over to where the group was starting to bundle up. "Listen guys, I'm really sorry but an emergency just came up. Can you guys go on without me?"

"Don't worry, Mr. Schue, I have our route all Google-mapped out, I'll make sure that we hit every appointed stop on the timetable, and that we-" Rachel turned around with a stack of papers, only to see Mr. Schue disappear down a hallway, "-complete our set list. Well, all right then."

"Hey, where'd Puck and Artie go? I thought we were all going caroling," wondered Tina.

"As if you could count on Puck for anything," said Quinn.

"Artie's been hanging out with him a lot lately," added Sam. "Maybe they both decided to play hooky?"

Brittany, who had been kind of melancholy all evening, looked even sadder at this and picked at the pompom on her felt Santa hat. "I was going to put sleigh bells on his wheelchair," she sighed. Tina frowned.

"_Puckerman,_" Rachel grumbled. "Well we'll just redistribute the parts..."

Next to Brittany, Santana seethed. She would have looked the picture of fury if it were not for the fuzzy reindeer antlers on her head. Santana pulled out her cellphone and quickly typed out a text:

_U jerk where r u & wheelz? B's :'( _

Seconds later she got an answer:

_Trust me we got this, chillax_

Santana sighed and slid her phone shut. She linked her arm in Brittany's and pulled her close. "Come on Britt, who needs them anyway? We'll go have fun and sing without them." Brittany nodded, but she didn't look happy.

(~)

After half an hour they were almost at the end of the route, and Puck and Artie still hadn't shown up. Ugh, Santana thought. Why did she ever think Puck wouldn't be a lousy unreliable jerk? He'd never qualify for a mortgage, that was for sure. She would have to make it up to Brittany somehow, later. Holding Brittany's hand tightly in both of hers, Santana sang out with the other girls. "_O tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy-"_

Headlights swept over the group and their voices faded as a large white van pulled up along the curb next to them.

"Yo!" Puck leaned out the window. "Sorry we're late."

"We had to go pick someone up," called Artie from the passenger seat.

The back doors of the van burst open, and a huge, jolly voice called out, "Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!" A huge red-suited figure stood triumphantly in the back of the van, hands on his ample belly, a curly white beard that fell halfway down his chest, and a twinkle in his eyes.

"Brittany, it's-" Santana grabbed Brittany's arm.

"Santa!" cried Brittany, clapping her hands.

Finn and Rachel cringed at first, but then they realized this Santa was not Sandy Ryerson. In fact, it looked like...

"Is that Coach Beiste?" Mike whispered to Sam.

"I think it is," said Sam, wide-eyed.

"I heard a Miss Brittany was feeling sad tonight. Where is she?"

"I'm here!" Brittany ran over to Coach Beiste. "Can I sit on your lap and tell you what I want?"

"Uh, well, I suppose that's the customary thing to do," Coach Beiste's eyes flicked around uncertainly, as if wondering whether this was some kind of Candid Camera joke. This wasn't exactly what she had expected when Puckerman and Abrams told her they needed to do a favor for a "really special girl." But Artie peeked around his seat and urgently motioned her to continue, so she sat down on the edge of the van and Brittany hopped up on her lap and put her arms around Santa to stay balanced.

"Wow Santa, did you grow boobs?" asked Brittany with some surprise and considerable interest.

"Uh – no, it's just, um, a glandular condition." Beiste made a note to herself to make Puck and Artie do many, many, extra drills next season.

"Oh okay. Well, here's my list." Brittany started listing item after item, and Santana walked over to Puck, who was helping Artie from the van.

"This is your surprise?" she asked him while raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Like it?" He looked at her confidently, and her face softened.

"Yeah, I do." She looked at Brittany, happily chattering away to Coach Beiste- er, Santa. "Thanks Puck."

"Well it was all Artie's idea," Puck jerked a shoulder toward Artie. "He convinced The Beiste to help out a couple of her football guys if we promised to clean up the locker room for a month."

"Totally worth it," said Artie, who looked pleased with himself. "A real man makes sacrifices in the name of love, yo." He looked over at Brittany, and Santana suddenly wanted to strangle him with his scarf.

Somehow she managed to say (only a little grudgingly), "Thanks Artie." There was an awkward silence, and she looked back over toward Brittany. "That's an amazing Santa costume, by the way."

"Damn straight. And those things don't come cheap this time of year," said Artie.

"Yeah, we had to go do an emergency nerd shakedown at the mall," Puck punched a fist into his open hand. Artie had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed.

"Santana!" Brittany called. "Santana, it's your turn!" Santana's eyes widened and she started to back away.

"Wait Brittany, I don't think- I've been pretty bad this year – lots of coal- no need-" But Brittany grabbed Santana's arm and pushed her onto Santa's lap, while the other glee club members laughed. Brittany made sure Santana was settled, smiled at them both, and politely stepped away to let Santana talk to Santa privately.

"Oh ho ho... huh, hmm," Coach Beiste laughed awkwardly. "And what would you like, Santana?" she said gamely.

"I'm sitting on a teacher's lap in the back of a van by the side of the road," Santana grumbled. "What I would _like_ is to forget this ever happened, and that it will _not_ be spoken of ever again."

"Agreed," Beiste said in return. "This is more embarrassing than a poodle in a cathouse."

Santana started to nod and then stopped. "A- what?"

Just then she looked over to see Brittany talking to Artie and giving him a hug. As if in slow motion, she saw the words "thank you" form on Brittany's lips, which then moved forward to meet Artie's in a long, deep kiss. Something in Santana's chest seemed to tighten and burn as she watched them, and Coach Beiste must have noticed because she glanced over to look at the pair.

"Anything else you want?" Beiste asked curiously.

Santana blinked. Her eyes were watery and she suddenly felt kind of tired. She shook her head. "Thanks for doing this Coach. It means a lot to Brittany." She started to move down off Coach Beiste's lap, just as a flash went off. Both Santana and Coach Beiste snapped their heads toward the source of the flash, where Mercedes stood wide eyed, camera in hand and a look of mischief on her face. Next to her, Quinn giggled.

"Bitch! Give me that camera!" Outraged, Santana jumped to the ground and chased after Mercedes, who took off laughing in a cloud of snow. Santana had almost reached her and was about to tackle her into a snowdrift when Mercedes made a perfect scoop pass to Quinn, who handed the camera off to Sam, who took another picture right before Santana hit him in the face with a snowball.

(~)

The next day when all of the pictures of caroling, the visit from Santa, and the epic snowball fight showed up on Facebook, Santana found she actually didn't mind that much as she clicked through them – except for one picture, which she lingered on too long. It was Brittany, sitting on the arm of Artie's chair with her arms around him; both of them were smiling happily at the camera with the street lights glowing and snowflakes falling all around them. _Happy couple,_ said the caption. Santana felt that strange ripping sensation in her chest again, and grabbed her phone.

"Hey Puck, got any plans? Then I'm coming over."

* * *

**A/N:** I know I know, sorry! But it seemed too soon to end it, Santana needs a little more time.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** This chapter is a little bit more serious and revolves around Santana. Btw, updates will be slow for a while, sorry! (I have to go write a paper.)

* * *

Santana was dreaming of gold, golden hair and golden light and golden skin against hers. She smiled into the warmth of the body next to her and opened one eye to see... stubble. Puck. He was already awake and watching her.

"Stop doing that, it's creepy," she mumbled. Opening her eyes had not been a good idea, because it set her head pounding. She would rather have kept on dreaming.

"You don't usually stay the night," he said cautiously. "Don't tell me you're getting all attached to me."

"Don't worry. It's not like I'm in love with her," she said, closing her eyes again.

"Say what?"

"I said, it's not like I'm in love with you," Santana rolled onto her back. Big mistake. The world kept rolling even after she stopped.

"No, you said '_her'," _said Puck.

"I did not," she said, and threw an arm over her eyes. She hadn't, had she?

"You did, I heard it," said Puck. He paused for a moment, and realization dawned on his face. "You're gay for _Brittany_."

Her heart pounded and she could feel her face flush, and she hoped Puck didn't notice. "I'm not _gay_ for _anyone_," she said. Her voice wavered a little when she said 'gay.'

"I _knew_ it."

"Shut up."

"It's true, isn't it?"

Santana was silent for a long time, listening to her own breathing and trying to calm her stomach, her head, and her heart.

"I-" she started. "Shit," she finally said.

(~)

Santana left Puck's place with half a bottle of vodka (which they'd made a pretty good dent in the night before) tucked inside her jacket, and his advice bouncing around her brain:

"_I can't take sides against Artie like that. Bros before hos, you know? Ow, hey, stop that!"_

"_Dude, you should totally show up at her door in nothing but a bathrobe and be like, 'Yeeeeah, baby, I got your present right here, come and unwrap me.'" _

"_So... you think Britt would go for a threesome?"_

Okay, "advice" was being generous. But Santana was kind of relieved that Puck knew, and that he didn't seem to think it was weird or anything. (Mostly he just thought it was hot.) When she got home, she told her parents she'd been at Brittany's house, stashed the bottle where the housekeeper wouldn't find it, and went to take a shower.

(~)

Santana's parents had decided to throw a Christmas Eve party. Santana hated these things, because it was always her dad's doctor friends and her mom's business friends schmoozing and she always had to dress up (which was fun) and make small talk with incredibly boring old people (which was not fun).

"You can invite your friend Brittany," offered her father.

Santana squirmed. "No, that's okay, she's got a... thing going on already." She had no idea if that was true, but just hearing Brittany's name made her stomach do flip-flops, which didn't help at all with the hangover she had from last night.

(~)

People were streaming in the door minute by minute, and Santana was being trotted out to say hello every time someone new arrived. At least all of them stopped to say how pretty she looked tonight, because she did in fact look pretty hot.

The doorbell rang and her father waved at her to answer it because he and her mother were busy talking to one of his colleagues. She got up and answered the door, and was surprised at who she found.

"Santana, I didn't know you lived here!" Dr. Carl exclaimed. Ms. Pillsbury stood wide-eyed at his side.

"Well if it isn't Dr. Carl Hottie," said Santana, standing up a little straighter. This night might be entertaining after all. "It looks awfully cold out there. You should come in and-" she laid a hand on his elbow and tugged him in the door, "-warm yourself up." Ms. Pillsbury cleared her throat and glared at Santana as she primly wiped her shoes on the welcome mat and stepped inside. Santana led them over to where her parents stood chatting.

"Daddy, Mom, Dr. Howell the dentist is here," Santana said to her parents, not letting go of Dr. Carl's elbow. "Wait a minute. Do you usually even invite dentists?"

"Haha," said Santana's father, "well, I heard about Dr. Howell's outreach efforts at McKinley and thought, you know, why don't we add a little 'diversity'", here he made air quotes with his fingers, "to our get-together this year?" Santana's father clapped Carl on the back. "And who is this beautiful lady?" he asked, turning to Ms. Pillsbury.

Santana drifted away from all the tedious introductions to go get herself something to drink. Not long after, she heard a chipper voice at her shoulder.

"So Santana, you have a very lovely home." Ms. Pillsbury beamed at her.

"Yup."

"You look very nice tonight," Ms. Pillsbury tried again.

"I know."

"O-kay then," said Ms. Pillsbury. "Well. How's Brittany?"

Santana winced internally and turned to look at her. "Why are you asking me?"

"Well, you are best friends after all, and I was hoping that she was not having any hard feelings after, ah, last year's bird incident, because I know that sometimes things like that can be somewhat traumatic, and-"

"She's fine." Santana felt a sudden need to elaborate. "She's got a boyfriend now."

"Oh, I see." Ms. Pillsbury looked as if she suddenly understood something, and her voice changed in tone. "How are _you _doing, Santana?"

"I-" Santana looked down and frowned. "I don't-"

The doorbell rang again and Santana said, "Sorry, Ms. Pillsbury, I'd better go get that." She put her drink down and went to open the door, only to find another unexpected set of guests. There on her doorstep stood Mercedes, along with an older man and woman who must have been Mercedes's parents. Hiding her surprise, Santana made the appropriate greetings and let them in.

"Weezy," she said under her breath as Mercedes passed by.

"Satan," murmured Mercedes.

She brought them over to her parents, who were talking to Dr. Carl and Ms. Pillsbury, who had rejoined the group. Dr. Carl saw them approaching and suddenly his cheery open demeanor turned dark.

"Well, well, Doc-tor Howell." Mercedes's father said to Carl, drawing out his words.

"Small world, Dr. Jones," Carl said with an edge in his voice.

"Too small," muttered Mercedes's father under his breath. Mrs. Jones nudged him. "Indeed, indeed," he said at a normal volume. "What have you been up to lately, Dr. Howell?"

"Oh, I just got an article published in the - ahem - Journal of the American Dental Association. Maybe you read it? I had a patient with sixty-eight cavities. It was a fascinating case study. Speaking of which, Santana, where's your friend Brittany?" Santana grumbled something and Mercedes gave her a funny look.

"Is that so? I must have missed it. Maybe it was when I was in Central America doing charitable work with Dentists Without Borders. Those poor, poor, kids, they were so thankful for our help." Dr. Jones put a hand over his heart, Mrs. Jones rolled her eyes, and Ms. Pillsbury smiled anxiously.

"Oh yeah, I did a stint with the Smile Foundation _years_ ago." Dr. Carl waved a hand dismissively. "In fact, we did so well, they didn't even need us to come back. Because we fixed everybody up the first time, you see." Dr. Carl and Dr. Jones locked eyes. Santana's father raised his eyebrows, and Santana's mother hid a smirk behind her hand.

"Well I'll look forward to reading your article in _JADA_, Dr. Howell. Did you know I was invited to be on their review board? But I had to decline, as I was fully occupied with my guest lecture series at the Ohio State College of Dentistry and finishing up my highly anticipated new textbook on dental restoration theory and technique." The two men were now standing face to face with their shoulders thrown back and their chests puffed out.

Mrs. Jones sighed and pulled Ms. Pillsbury away, saying something about gorillas pounding their chests and needing a drink. As she walked away, Ms. Pillsbury gave Santana a sympathetic glance.

(~)

Santana and Mercedes sat on the couch, staring straight ahead and refusing to talk to each other. Finally Santana gave up.

"This blows."

"Mmhmm."

More silence.

"Say, you still got those custom bibs?" Mercedes asked. "I bet Breadstix is still open."

At the mention of Breadstix Santana's eyes filled with happy tears and she grabbed Mercedes's hand, which startled Mercedes so much she almost dropped her glass of sparking cider. "You're brilliant and clever and a genius! Let's go."

Fortunately for them Breadstix was indeed open on Christmas Eve, and they managed to get a table for two after a short wait, along with some strategic cleavage flashing from Santana. Mercedes watched with amazement as Santana finished off half a dozen breadsticks before the server even came around to take their order, then another eight before the entrees arrived, and then dug into her meal with no apparent decrease in appetite. They were nearly done with their meals and Santana was trying to toss pieces of her cardboard drink coaster into Mercedes's pasta primavera when Mercedes suddenly slapped the table, making the glassware (and Santana) jump.

"Would you quit it? What is your deal with my food?" snapped Mercedes.

"I just thought you could use some extra fiber," Santana shot back.

"You know, the last time I knew anyone who acted like that all the time, I was eight years old and the boy had a huge crush on me."

To Mercedes's surprise, Santana turned beet red and glanced away. "As if," she said, and took a sip of her iced tea.

Mercedes gave her a long look and put two and two together to get... something or other. "So... where's Brittany?"

Santana rolled her eyes, and threw up her hands. "Why do people keep asking me that? I'm not her keeper."

They were quiet for a while. Mercedes pushed some pasta around on her plate. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Whatever."

"You know, maybe it's not my place to be asking this... but what's up with you and Brittany? Are you two, like..."

Santana made a face at her. "Why would I tell you anything? You told everyone in glee club about Puck and Quinn." She pointed her fork at Mercedes accusingly.

"Hmph. It's not that much of a secret anyway. Brittany's been all about 'oh, Santana's so hot,' and 'no you can't touch my boobs tonight,' and oh yeah, 'Santana and I are having sex,' for the past _year_."

Santana had to admit Mercedes had her there.

"I-," Santana began, and for the third time today, she could feel all these words and feelings sitting on the tip of her tongue, and suddenly they all came bursting out – "I don't know, it's like _weird_ that now she's dating Artie and she's all trying to be a good girlfriend and I guess that maybe I care more than I thought I did about her and now she's all like 'oh no Santana we can't do this' even though before she was like 'oh no Santana why don't you want to sing this super gay duet with me' and now it's all 'screw you I have a real boyfriend now even though I have to do all the work in bed' and so what if I'm a little in love with her or maybe a lot I don't know it's been a horrible week and it's all a huge mess." Santana threw up her hands in frustration, then stopped to take a deep breath and a drink of her iced tea. When she looked up, Mercedes was staring at her, dumbfounded. "What?"

_Do I have 'confidante' stamped on my forehead or something? _ Mercedes thought. "Well," she said slowly, "does Brittany know that you care about her like that?"

Santana sighed. "I don't know. No."

Mercedes just looked at her expectantly.

Santana checked her phone. "Look, I've got to get back. We're supposed to go to midnight mass." They split the check (even to Santana, a dine-and-dash didn't seem right on Christmas Eve) and left the restaurant. As they walked through the snowy parking lot side by side, Santana turned to Mercedes.

"This doesn't mean we're friends, by the way."

"That is fine by me."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Hahahaha, I finally watched 2.5 episodes that I missed (up through ep. 9 Special Education) and realized my story makes no sense now. So this is most definitely an alternate timeline. (I still have not seen the real ep. 10, lol.) Thanks so much to everyone who is still reading and reviewing!

Btw - this chapter gets angsty. A lot more than I had planned, actually...

* * *

Santana paced furiously around her bedroom. For the rest of the evening, she had been replaying the conversation with Mercedes in her mind... _I'm a little in love with her... or maybe a lot... Does she know...?_ _I don't know. No. _

She had to do something, she had to be proactive, she couldn't just let Brittany run off with Wheels. And she'd already tried warning Artie off once, but obviously that hadn't worked. Santana caught a glimpse of her Cheerios jacket draped over the back of a chair. What would Sue Sylvester do in this situation? Santana imagined Sue standing before the Cheerios in the bleachers, stalking back and forth and lecturing them.

_There comes a time in every young woman's life when certain... feelings emerge. There are flushed faces and fluttering hearts and moist skin and quivering thighs everywhere. Believe you me, I understand how you feel. Once upon a time, as horrifying as it may sound, I felt the same way myself. In fact, I am horrified just remembering it. But now, with the wisdom and experience my twenty-nine years on Earth have brought me, I can tell you what it all means. What it means is that you are eating too many bacon double cheeseburgers and not getting enough cardio. Your flabby little hearts are the anatomical equivalent of chocolate pudding. Ten laps now, sluggards!_

Santana didn't think running laps in the middle of the night would really help. But cardio... hearts... that gave her an idea.

(~)

On Christmas morning, Santana was awakened by a loud noise and what felt like an earthquake. When she opened her eyes, there was a lot of blonde hair in her face.

"Santana! Merry Christmas! Get up! We have to go open our presents!" Brittany bounced a few more times on the bed.

"Nnnnnnghggh," said Santana. "It's too early. Don't you have presents to open at your house?"

"It's 9 am! We already opened them all!"

"Nnnghhh too early," replied Santana, and she rolled over and pulled the comforter over her head. "Go hang out with your boyfriend or something," she grouched from under the covers.

Brittany frowned. "But this is what we do on Christmas."

Santana made another noise that sounded like "mrrrgg." Uncertainly, Brittany got off the bed and started to move toward the door, but she kept looking at the Santana-shaped lump on the bed, as if expecting something to happen.

"Brittany, wait, stop, I'm kidding," Santana called from under her comforter. "I'm getting up. Let's go- aiiiiieee!" The covers flew off her bed and Santana felt herself being yanked by the arm out of the bed and pulled toward the stairs. "Whoa!"

Together they sort of ran and sort of stumbled down the stairs, past Santana's mother who was blearily heading back to bed after having let Brittany in the house. Santana and her parents had already opened most of their presents after coming back from mass. (In fact, a huge mess of wrapping paper and bows and ribbons was still all over the living room because everyone had been too tired to clean it up.) Only a couple of boxes were left – Brittany's present for Santana, and Santana's present for Brittany.

"So did you get everying you asked for from Santa?" Brittany asked.

"I didn't ask Santa for anything," Santana admitted.

Brittany looked startled. "Why not?"

Santana flashed back to sitting on Coach Beiste's lap and grimaced. "I guess I wasn't sure what I wanted yet."

"But how will Santa be able to give you what you want if you don't even know yourself?"

Santana waved a hand impatiently. "Just forget it, I got lots of good stuff. Let's get to _our_ presents now."

"Open yours first," Brittany said with excitement. She handed Santana a box with festive Santa-and-elves wrapping paper. Santana opened the package and spread her hands wide, holding up what she found inside.

"It's... an electric blanket?" The blanket was huge and soft and the same shade of red as their Cheerios uniforms. It actually was a very nice blanket.

"Yeah!" Brittany said. "It's so you can stay warm and digest your food if I'm not around... or Puck either, I guess."

"Oh." Santana wrapped the blanket around herself and hugged her knees to her chest. So Brittany still remembered that. Damn. She still felt kind of bad for saying all those things to Brittany so many weeks ago, and then Brittany had run off to date friggin' Artie. Was this revenge? Was this Brittany's way of telling her that she wasn't planning on being around any more?

But the expression on Brittany's face was open and smiling and looking for approval and apparently not passive-aggressive at all. Santana might have expected that kind of thing from other girls, but Brittany wasn't like most girls, Santana knew that. And she kind of liked that. The thought made her stupid heart hurt. "Thanks Britt, I love it." She leaned forward and gave Brittany a blanket-hug, wrapping it around both of them, then she sat back. "Okay Brittany, open yours."

Brittany eagerly tore off the wrapping paper and squealed when she saw what was inside.

"A Zac Efron Exclusive Collector's Edition Deluxe DVD Box Set! Thank you so much," and Brittany leaped forward to hug Santana tightly. "I love Zac Efron! He's so pretty, almost like a girl. Did you ever think that glee club is a little like High School Musical? Except Zac Efron is way hotter than Finn, even when he's singing to fat girls."

Brittany sat back and held the box up to look at the DVD titles. "Huh. What are 'Orson Well-es'? Anyway, he's a better basketball player than Finn too. And he was totally smokin' when he was sailing." Brittany sat back and smiled a huge smile at Santana. "Maybe we should go sailing one day. His hair was like, dancing on his head, it was totally sexy. If his hair were a person I would totally have sex with it. And his eyes are soooo gorgeous." Brittany swooned a little.

Santana nodded along but wasn't really following. In that moment, she realized that looking at Brittany while being in love, and knowing she was in love, was nothing like looking at Brittany before. All of a sudden it seemed like Brittany was made of all that was good in the world, like sunshine and flowers and blue skies and sex and summertime. She felt warm and a little dizzy. "Yeah, pretty blue eyes," she said, staring.

"I know. And he has really nice arms, and armpits. When he took his shirt off, his arms were like, 'bang bang'-" Brittany made finger-guns and gestured. "And then I was like," Brittany put her hand on her chest and slowly tipped over. Santana watched as Brittany disappeared into a pile of wrapping paper on the floor.

"You're really pretty," Santana blurted out. Then she furrowed her eyebrows. Honestly, why couldn't she keep her mouth shut lately?

Brittany popped back up from the floor. There was a discarded bow sticking to the side of her head and Santana reached out to pull it off. "Thank you," Brittany said. "You're really pretty too."

Santana shook her head and remembered what she had decided the night before. "I, um, I have another gift for you," Santana said. She reached under a different pile of wrapping paper and pulled out a small box, no larger than her hand. Her heart hammered inside her as she handed it to Brittany.

"I didn't get you anything else," Brittany said, looking guilty.

"It's okay. This one is different. I just thought of it last night."

Brittany tore into the wrapping and opened the box. Inside it was a simple necklace sitting on a bed of cotton. Brittany's expression faded from an excited half-smile to slack confusion, and Santana felt her stomach churn. Brittany turned the pendant over to see the initials "SL" engraved on the back.

"Santana... I don't understand. This is your special necklace, your Cheerio heart necklace." She held the box in her hands and looked at it like she was scared of it.

Santana swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat. _Now or never! _"I wanted you to have it. Because I like you. And you could wear it. And it would be like we, like we were..." What was with her today? Why couldn't she talk like her normal badass self?

Okay, time for Plan B. Santana scooted closer to Brittany so that their knees were touching. That was better. She reached for Brittany's hands and held them in hers, and took a deep breath. "I realized that what I want - is you." She looked at Brittany, took a deep breath, and waited for a reaction. _Please, please take it._

It was slow in coming. Brittany stared at her and blinked several times. Then she looked at the necklace, back at Santana, back at the necklace again. She pursed her lips and her eyes seemed to lose focus for a second. Then she put the lid back on the box and pushed it back into Santana's hands.

"I don't want it."

_What? "_What?"

"You just want me now because I'm with Artie. It's just like when Puck was dating Mercedes."

Santana sat there with her mouth open for a few seconds. "What? Brittany, what are you talking about?" But Santana could feel that sinking sensation coming on, and tried to salvage the conversation. "You _know_ I like you, now it's just... I like you more." She was breathing fast, and her whole body felt like it was burning up.

Brittany continued on in her soft monotone, unwavering. "You didn't even want to date Puck. You still don't want to date Puck. You were just mad that he wanted to date someone else."

"That's not true!" Except it kind of _was_ true, and Santana knew it.

"It's true." Brittany's voice had a little flintiness in it now. "And even now you still want Puck more than you want me."

"Brittany, no, it's different, it's changed-" Santana tried to take Brittany's hand, but Brittany pulled it away.

"Artie is my boyfriend now, so I can't be your girlfriend."

Santana felt like she had been slapped. Her head was buzzing, her skin was tingling all over, and her vision was blurry around the edges, with an image of an uncaring Brittany swimming in the middle. "Jesus, Britt," she snapped, "it's not like being with one person ever stopped you from being with someone else!"

Brittany's nostrils flared, but her voice didn't rise at all. "I'm _dating_ Artie. That's not how it works."

Santana heard her own voice like it was coming from far away. "I want to date you," she said helplessly.

"If that's what you wanted, you should have asked Santa," Brittany said. "Maybe he would have given you a Christmas miracle." Brittany started to get up, turning to look for her coat and gloves.

Santana couldn't see straight, couldn't think straight. All she could hear was a roaring sound, her heartbeat thrumming in her ears. She lashed out. "Just- just stop with the Santa crap already! My _parents_ bought me all this stuff. _Your_ parents bought you all your stuff. It's not some magic old creeper leaving things in the middle of the night!"

Brittany froze, staring at Santana. Then she turned and ran, out of the living room and out of the house, slamming the door shut behind her.

Santana stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by torn paper and scattered ribbons and opened presents that hadn't been put away. She realized she was crying, but she didn't know how long. Kicking aside scraps of wrapping paper, she headed back up the stairs in a daze, not even noticing the concerned glances from her parents as she passed their room.

When Santana reached her bed she realized she was still holding the box with the necklace. She dropped it on the nightstand, crawled under the covers, and went to sleep.

(~)

Three hours later Santana woke up, hungry and thirsty and feeling tired and sore. But before she could get breakfast, she saw the box on her nightstand and the morning's events hit her again full force. So she got dressed and put on boots, gloves, a hat, and a coat, and stomped out the door with the box in her pocket.

It was bright outside, with scattered clouds in the sky, and the sun making sparkling reflections off all the snow piled on the rooftops and yards and curbs. Santana walked down the road to the park, past the swingset and jungle gym, past the slide and merry-go-round, down to the path that led into a small wooded area.

She kept stomping through the woods until the path widened slightly, and she stopped there to catch her breath. Fumbling a little, she pulled the box out of her pocket and took out the necklace. Then with an angry shriek she flung the necklace as high as she could, up into the branches of the nearby trees. The necklace caught on a branch far above her head, where it twisted back and forth in the wind and occasionally flashed silver in the sunlight.

There. Now the dumb birds could have it, or whatever, she didn't care. Satisfied, but not happy, Santana turned around and went home.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N**: Well my paper is written but my brain is fried. Just so you know, I think there will be 4 or 5 more chapters. Then again I originally thought this entire story would be 5 chapters long. Whoops!

* * *

Santana was weaving her way through the post-holiday crowd at the Lima Mall when she recognized a familiar diva attitude lounging on a bench in front of Macy's. She stalked over to give that attitude a little of her own.

"You! If I had a slushie, you'd be so purple right now that small children would want to hold your hand and sing songs with you!" Several feet away, Jacob Ben Israel and Lauren Zizes jumped up and scurried away to hide behind a digital ad kiosk. Fortunately for them they were not the target of Santana's wrath, and thus escaped her notice.

The target of Santana's wrath raised an eyebrow. "What's up, Beelzebub?"

Santana leaned down and poked her index finger at Mercedes's sternum. "I took your advice and Brittany ran out on me," she hissed.

"Advice?" Mercedes looked at her dubiously. "When did I give you advice? Why would you _take_ my advice? We don't like each other, remember?"

"Three days ago _you_ said 'well does she know'. And _I_ said she didn't." Santana gestured back and forth with her hands as she spoke. "And then _you_ gave me a look – yeah, a lot like that one – which clearly meant '_tell_ her then.' And I did, and then it all went to crap, and-" Santana's face screwed up and she sat heavily on the bench.

_Here we go again_. Mercedes sighed and patted Santana's back as she burst into tears. "Come on, it can't be that bad."

"It- it _is_ that bad," Santana said through her sobs. "She thinks I w-want to take her away from Artie. But I just- I just want Br-"

"What's going on?" Tina walked up to them with bags from Hot Topic in hand.

"Hey Tina. Um, Santana wants... Breadstix!" Mercedes hastily filled in. At the word 'Breadstix,' Santana let out a sob and cried even harder. "Yeah, she's still not quite over the duets competition."

Tina's face relaxed into a sympathetic expression and she sat down on Santana's other side. "Oh! I totally understand, you guys were really great. I love Breadstix too," she said, putting an arm around Santana, who turned toward Tina and cried onto her shoulder. "Isn't their salad bar awesome?" Santana nodded into Tina's shoulder and sniffled.

Mercedes stared at the two of them. "You people are so weird."

(~)

"You did _what?_" Mercedes and Tina gaped at Santana across their table in the food court.

"You threatened to post my picture on PervyJapaneseBusinessman .com if I didn't help Brittany believe in Santa!" Tina said.

"When you told me that you wanted to keep Santa real for Brittany, I thought you might actually have a heart under that Cheerios armor." Mercedes shook her head. "I guess I was mistaken."

Santana looked at Mercedes evenly, then cocked her head to one side. "Been thinking about what's under my uniform, Weezy?" She smirked and stuck out her chest a little. Tina choked on her milkshake and turned to see Mercedes's response.

Mercedes didn't even blink. "Please, girl. If I ever needed to know _that_, I'd ask the football team, and the basketball team, and the soccer team, and the hockey team, and the-" Mercedes ticked off each option on her fingers.

"_Please_, yourself. I don't sleep with hockey players," said Santana. Tina coughed again, though this time it sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

"I just can't believe you'd do that to Brittany of all people," Mercedes said.

"Yeah, you really are a bitch," said Tina. "I mean, not that we didn't know that already. But _wow_."

Instead of coming back with a snappy retort about the virtues of bitchiness, Santana just looked sad and guilty.

Mercedes was a little alarmed. She was not accustomed to seeing Santana sad and guilty, and it caused a peculiar feeling to well up inside her. If she thought about it much, it could have been that she was actually feeling bad for Santana. Maybe it was just that her smoothie wasn't sitting right. "Did you at least apologize?"

Santana's face fell and she traced a line with her finger along the table's fake woodgrain. "I tried," she said.

(~)

|** Sent**

| Not now, girl problems

| Hell no ur not getting a 3so...

| If u need it so bad go jerk y...

| Brittany, u there? Im sorry...

| I was a huge bitch to u. Pls...

| I mean it. I am so sorry for...

| I know ur angry. I didnt me...

| Wait I did mean the part ab...

_beep_

"Brittany, _please _pick up the phone. Did you get my texts? I'm sorry about yesterday. I'm sorry about Puck, about everything. Please talk to me."

_beep_

"Brittany, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean the Santa thing, I got carried away and said stuff I shouldn't have. Um, you left your present here. You can come pick it up. Or I can bring it over. If you like."

_beep_

"Brittany, you left your gloves here too. You know, I can just bring this stuff over so you don't have to do anything. Okay, you know what, I'm coming over."

(~)

An hour later, Santana stood in Brittany's front yard with a glint of determination in her eye. She raised a WMHS cheerleading megaphone to her mouth.

"ATTENTION BRITTANY S. PIERCE, PLEASE LISTEN. I WROTE A CHEER JUST FOR YOU, TO SAY THAT I AM VERY, VERY SORRY."

Santana cleared her throat.

"I WROTE THIS CHEER FOR BRITTANY PIERCE

SHE'S SUPER HOT AND SUPER FIERCE"

It occurred to Santana that this sounded better on paper, but she pressed on.

"I WANT TO TELL YOU HOW I FEEL

I'M SORRY I SAID SANTA'S NOT REAL"

Thirty yards away in a nearby backyard, a group of small children building a snowman began to cry.

"IF YOU CAN HEAR ME BRIT-TAN-Y

I HAVE ZAC EFRON DVDS-"

The upstairs window of the house next door slid open and what looked like a twelve-year-old boy leaned his head out. "Shut up! No one's home!"

Santana lowered her megaphone and scowled at him. He slammed the window shut and in return she gave him the finger. Fine. Some people obviously didn't appreciate art.

(~)

A couple hours later she came back to Brittany's house. This time she noted that a light was on inside and there was a car in the driveway. As she walked closer, she also saw what appeared to be a large, dirty pile of rags on the front step, which hadn't been there earlier. Maybe they were doing some post-Christmas cleanup. With Brittany's gloves in her coat pocket and the DVD set under her arm, she headed up to the door.

Suddenly the pile shifted and leaped toward her. "Rrrrrrrr! Raaawr! Rarrf!"

"Holy shit!" Santana sprinted back down the street, flung herself into her car, locked the doors, and tried to stop trembling. "What the _hell _was that?"

Inside the Pierce home, Brittany peeked out through the curtains. "Mom, Patches followed us home again. I think he saw a cat."

(~)

It was time to pull out all the stops. Santana had her plan all prepared by evening, and she once again parked her car down the street from Brittany's house. This time she left the DVDs in the trunk; instead, she took down the ladder she'd strapped to the car roof and brought that with her.

She had a single long-stemmed rose tucked inside her Cheerios jacket. She had memorized the entirety of "Come To My Window" that afternoon. Unfortunately the moon was hidden behind some clouds, but that couldn't be helped. She carried the ladder to the side of the house and leaned it against the siding, under Brittany's window. After making sure it was secure and wouldn't slip on the snowy ground, she carefully climbed the ladder up to the window and tapped at the glass.

There was no response. She rapped harder. Still no response. Maybe Brittany wasn't in her room but had left the light on. She craned her neck a little and tried to see if anything was moving behind the curtains, but she couldn't tell if there were any Brittany-like shapes in the room.

Okay then. Santana pulled out her cell phone and pulled off one glove. Brittany hadn't replied to any of her calls so far, but she hoped the messages were at least getting through, because she had one more to leave.

_beep_

"Brittany, it's me. I'm outside your window. I just wanted to say something to you." Santana took a deep breath and started to sing. "'_I would dial the numbers just to listen to your breath, and I would stand-'"_

A blinding light shone into her face from below. "Stop what you're doing! Keep your hands where we can see them!"

"I- what?" Startled, Santana fumbled with the phone and it dropped to the ground ten feet below. She sighed.

"Climb slowly down the ladder, please."

Minutes later, Santana was standing on the sidewalk trying to explain to one uniformed police officer that no, she was honestly not a peeping tom or a prowler, while the other officer spoke to Brittany's parents at the door. He returned to them and gave Santana a skeptical look.

"All right miss, the homeowners have vouched for you. It seems the neighbors were just being vigilant, as there've been reports of vagrants in the neighborhood recently. You'd be wise not to lurk around like that in the future."

Santana bit her tongue. _Do I _look _like a vagrant?_ she wanted to say. "Thank you, officer," she said instead. The police officers headed back to their car, and across the street, a set of curtains were pulled closed. Santana rolled her eyes and looked back at Brittany's house. In the front window, Brittany's face glowered at her through a gap in the curtains. Then Brittany abruptly turned away and the curtains swung shut.

Santana picked up her ladder, trudged back to her car, and drove home. She told her parents she'd been out shopping and put the now slightly-battered rose in a vase of water.

(~)

Tina and Mercedes wore identical expressions of cringing sympathy.

"Did she at least call you back?" asked Tina.

"No, but she texted me."

"What'd she say?"

Santana sighed, pushed some buttons and held up her now slightly-battered phone so they could see.

_IM MAD AT U X1000000_

_DONT BOTHR RPLYNG_

_BTW UR NOT EVEN THAT HOT_

"Ouch." Mercedes looked at Tina and they nodded in agreement.

Mercedes leaned forward and put her hands on the table. "Look, I guess I do feel bad for you Santana, even though you have occasionally made my life miserable. But Brittany's obviously happy with Artie, and Artie's my friend, and I'm not going to wish a breakup on them just because you got your head out of your ass."

"Yeah, even if Artie was a pretty bad boyfriend sometimes," Tina added, and Mercedes nudged her. "What?"

Santana looked pissed. "You suck. Fine, go ahead and be like that. But if you mention this to _anyone_, it's PervyJapaneseBusinessman .com for _both_ of you."

Mercedes and Tina mimed zipping their lips.

(~)

From behind a nearby planter, Jacob Ben Israel looked at Lauren Zizes.

"Did you get all that?"

"I got enough," she said, checking her phone recording.

"This is totally going to be the scoop of the year!" They high-fived each other and giggled.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Ugh. Sorry this took so long, I had a lot of trouble with this chapter. My original plan for this actually turned into two chapters so I think I will be able to finish the next one this week.

* * *

**JBI Exclusive: Glee Club – it's even gayer than you thought!**

But the Yuletide wasn't gay enough for Cheerios and glee-clubbers Santana Lopez and Brittany S. Pierce, whose are-they-or-aren't-they relationship is the talk of McKinley. And your intrepid blogger has the answer we all want to know: they aren't – but not if Santana had had her way!

The erstwhile head cheerleader revealed the shocking truth during a public confession at the Lima Mall shortly after...

**Read more below the jump!**

* * *

Mercedes and Tina stood in front of the lockers before school, chatting about their winter break and waiting for Kurt to arrive.

"Uh oh," said Tina, "Look who's coming."

"Mercedes, Tina," Santana said in a sickeningly sweet voice, with a matching smile. "I'm so glad to see you." Behind her people stared and whispered to each other behind their hands.

Mercedes and Tina looked at each other uneasily. Before they could respond, Santana pulled out her phone and with a couple taps of her finger, snapped pictures of each of them.

"You two are gonna make a Tokyo salaryman very happy tonight. _Sayonara,_ bitches." Santana waved the phone at them and turned to walk away. Tina's jaw dropped and Mercedes's eyes bugged out, and they lunged forward after Santana.

"Hey wait a second!" Tina and Mercedes pulled Santana back by the strap of her Cheerios duffel bag.

"We didn't say anything!" Mercedes insisted.

"Oh really, and then how did me and Britt make story of the week on Jewfro's blog, huh?"

"We wouldn't do that. We like Brittany! And we, uh, we don't mind you." Tina edged behind Mercedes a little.

Mercedes crossed her arms. "I know it's tough to change your routine and all, but try to be reasonable. Didn't you see us in the picture? We couldn't have taken it ourselves. Someone else was spying on us at the mall."

"Hold up. What picture?"

Tina looked surprised. "It was posted in the comments, from someone named 'RPattzRocksMyWorld'."

Santana pursed her lips. It was time to do some damage control.

(~)

"Zizes!"

"Lopez." Lauren continued arranging her books in her locker with great care.

"Where did you get that picture on Jacob's blog?"

"As president of the A/V club, I have access to a wide array of media, any of which might appear-"

"Oh, stop playing, Big Bertha. The picture you posted on the story about me and Brittany. I want any other pictures and I want to know what else you heard. If you don't tell me-"

Lauren turned to look at Santana for the first time. "What do you plan to do, shower me in crushed ice and corn syrup? I'm not that easy to intimidate. Thanks to the wrestling team and my lawsuit, I've dealt with people much, much-" she paused to look Santana up and down, "much bigger than you. And not just in terms of square footage."

Santana made a frustrated noise. "What will it take to keep anything else from being spread around?"

Lauren sniffed. "I only posted a frame grab to corroborate Jacob's story, not because I'm not out to humiliate you. Believe it or not, there are things that are more important than one's place in the high school pecking order." She fixed her gaze on Santana. "Love is a fleeting thing in this world; I know this all too well." She put a hand to her heart and sighed. "When you find the one you're meant to be with, you do what you have to – whether it's apologizing to her empty house, making a fool of yourself in front of the cops, or having his vampire baby. Though you may not believe me, I truly hope you get your girl. Godspeed." Lauren turned and walked away.

Santana blinked and closed her mouth, which was hanging open. Still stunned and a little chagrined, she headed for her next class.

* * *

**Twilight club to Principal Figgins: bite me!**

McKinley still remembers the scourge of vampirism that roamed our halls last year – now watch out for the sequel! The Twilight club vows to continue underground after Principal Figgins's crackdown on vampire-related activities last year.

Frankly this blogger supports any and all action that our esteemed Principal determines necessary to protect the student body...

**Read more below the jump!**

* * *

"It's not fair," Kurt said to Mercedes as they watched Santana file her nails and sneak glances at Brittany, who sat with Artie across the room. "Why is it that when I come out, I get mercilessly shoved into lockers, and when she's outed, no one cares?"

"It's sexist and a double standard," said Rachel, butting in on their conversation. "Guys like Puck," she shot a look at the guy in question, who shrugged back at her, "they think that two attractive women together are just for their benefit." Rachel rolled her eyes. "And everyone else is too frightened of Sue Sylvester to insult the Cheerios."

"Which is just as it should be," said Quinn, who had just taken her seat. "But this week, I'm in charge, since Coach Sylvester is giving a keynote address at an international cheerleading conference in Sweden." Santana stopped filing her nails and looked sharply at Quinn.

Mr. Schuester walked in the room and set his bag on the piano. "All right everyone, welcome back! Did you have a good winter break?" He clasped his hands together and looked around expectantly.

"Brittany and I are no longer friends," said Santana. Brittany nodded.

"I got three months added to my probation for suspected nerd extortion," said Puck. "But they can't prove anything."

"I sprained my ankle ice skating," said Mike sadly, and pointed at his booted foot propped up on a chair. Tina rubbed his back and gave him a sympathetic look.

Mr. Schue's mouth dropped open. "Oh. Wow. I'm sorry to hear all of that, guys. You know, one thing that can help us get through tough times is the support of a team. Which ties in with the theme of your next glee assignment.

"Since our duets competition was such a hit last semester, I thought we'd try something a little more challenging to kick off the new year. But this time the key word is _teamwork – _so this time, you'll be singing in groups of four, which I'll assign. Here-" he passed out sheets of paper, "-is a list of possible songs for your groups. I've got sheet music for all of them so just see me if you want to use it."

"Mr. Schue, these are all from the '70s," Artie said. "I thought we were going to sing more modern songs this year."

Mr. Schuester threw up his hands. "They're meant to be guidelines. Feel free to find your own group songs."

Puck spoke up. "I say we just use these. I'm stuck cleaning the locker room all month," he shot a look at Artie, "so I don't have time to go do song research for glee club. The basketball players are total slobs."

"Works for me."

"Yep."

"Good point."

"Hey!" Finn frowned.

Mr. Schuester looked dismayed. "Look, I appreciate the lack of criticism for my music selections, and I know you guys had some tough times during this break, but where's the effort? The enthusiasm? We've got a big job ahead of us at Regionals this year and we need to get cracking on those songs. Remember our goal? Nationals, New York City!"

"I'm sure we'll find our enthusiasm in time for Regionals," said Finn. "We did last year."

"All right." Mr. Schue rubbed his chin. "I seem to remember some gift certificates working really well... maybe I can up the stakes a little. What do you say?" He looked satisfied at the murmurs of excitement from the group.

* * *

**JBI Exclusive: the secret money trail behind extracurriculars at McKinley**

Ever wonder how the Mock Trial club affords custom gavels for its members every year? Or where the Fruit Sculpture Club gets all its fruit? Or how Glee Club regularly dines out at the finest locations Allen County has to offer?

Our investigative blogger takes a look at how these lowly clubs live high on the hog while other groups like the school newspaper struggle for lack of...

**Read more below the jump!**

* * *

As soon as the bell rang at the end of her history class, Santana jumped from her seat and tried to get out of the room as fast as possible. But just as she was going out the door she felt a light touch on the inside of her elbow, and her stomach flip-flopped.

"Don't touch me," she snapped, without looking to see who it was. When she turned around, Brittany pulled her hand back and clutched the straps of her backpack.

"What is it? I've got important stuff to do before next period," Santana said, her voice flat. She tried to ignore the hurt look in Brittany's eyes.

Brittany looked uncertain for a moment. "You're not wearing your necklace," Brittany said in a low voice. She looked at Santana and waited.

Santana stared at Brittany. "I lost it," she finally said. Santana spun on her heel and left Brittany frowning in the doorway.

(~)

"Delete that fucking post."

"No way. This is big-time news – do you know how many hits I've gotten on my blog since I put that up? Traffic is up a hundred and fifty percent! And that's _without_ all the sordid details." Jacob let out a shaky giggle. "I'm thinking of starting a pay system for premium content."

"Delete it or you'll be sorry. And if you write anything else about me, or Brittany-" Santana drummed her fingers on the table.

Nervously, Jacob clutched his digital recorder to his chest. "It's too late Santana. You're no match for the power of social media. There are probably copies of it all over the the blogosphere and the Twitterverse by now. However..." He leaned forward across the table. "I have- _ways_- to cordon off the information, if we could come to an agreement..." Jacob scribbled something on a scrap of paper, folded it, and passed it to Santana, who grabbed the note and read it, made a horrified face, and threw the crumpled paper back at him.

"Oh _hell_ no, you creepy perv!"

Jacob flinched but called out to Santana as she stalked off. "Wait, that's not how negotiations are supposed to work! You're supposed to-" His shoulders slumped as Santana disappeared.

"Never stop aiming for the stars," he said to himself forlornly, clenching the discarded offer in his fist. "Never stop."

* * *

**Reader poll results: how much gayer can Glee Club get?**

[ 9 %] A lot – wait 'til you see their Elton John/Melissa Etheridge mashup

[18 %] Some – Brittany's still made out with more guys than girls, after all

[25 %] A little – it depends on what Kurt Hummel's wearing that day

[48 %] None more gay – they've already got it turned up to 11

**Read more below the jump!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Again, sorry this took so long, I am obviously not very good at estimating writing time. Also, I was hoping to get more Brittany in here but Santana keeps running away with the story.

**Edit 1/15/11: **Oops forgot to add - thanks to all the readers and reviewers who appeared after Chapter 9 (wow!) and of course to those who have been reading and reviewing all along! It is always cool to hear what you think.

* * *

Santana heard Puck calling her name as she left the choir room, but she kept right on walking. "For the last time," she said, "_no_ threesomes. Do you know how many times I've been asked that this week? _God_." She stopped at her locker and spun the dial.

Puck caught up to her, looking a little disappointed. "Duly noted. But," he ducked his head toward her, "I think you should talk to Britt anyway. You know, smooth things over with her."

"Why should I do that? I already tried to apologize, and she blew me off."

"Well, I heard she was looking for you at my New Year's Eve party, but you were busy making out all night."

"With _you_!"

Puck was indignant. "Can you blame me?"

Santana glanced at her reflection in the mirror. "Honestly, I really can't."

"Yeah, exactly. But you know," Puck paused and glanced at his hand, "Brittany's a great girl with a good heart, and it obviously hurts her to be so-" Puck squinted, "so profoundly separated from- hey!" Santana grabbed his wrist, pulling it closer to see. Puck's entire palm was covered with bullet points written in ballpoint pen.

"Who put you up to this?"

Puck scratched his head. "Okay, so yesterday in the locker room..."

(~)

"This place is a total sty," Puck said, dumping a dustpan full of rubbish into the garbage can.

"Uh huh." Artie watched listlessly as the dust settled.

"You know, I think there are new life forms growing in that locker that no one ever opens."

"Cool." Artie shoved his pushbroom forward.

"Are you all right, dude?"

Artie rested the broom handle on his shoulder and sighed. "Brittany's been feeling down lately."

"Yeah?" Puck sprayed a bench with disinfectant and wiped it down with a towel.

"Yeah. She was so happy before Christmas, and then I guess that whole situation with Santana happened. I've tried to talk to her about it, but she just gets pouty and sad and starts cuddling with her cat." Artie grimaced. "It's kind of a libido killer."

"That's tough, man." Puck shook his head. "So you only know what went on from Jacob's blog?"

"Yeah. And if that's true, I guess I should feel good that she picked me over Santana. Actually, it's a serious ego booster. But I can't stand to see Brittany unhappy."

"I know what you mean. Like when Santana would turn on the waterworks, it'd just do something _weird_ to me, and next thing I knew I'd be running out to get her corn dogs or frozen bananas or something." Puck stopped at the end of the bench. "I could talk to her, if you like, to get her to make up with Brittany."

"Could you? That would be totally awesome." Artie smiled. "You know, you really are a pretty good-" He stopped short, noticing something – movement? – out of the corner of his eye.

"Puck," Artie said, gesturing with his head, "was that jockstrap there two minutes ago?"

Puck followed his gaze to the corner, where a discarded athletic supporter sat underneath the locker that no one ever opened. The locker door was slightly ajar. "No," he said, "no, it wasn't."

"There isn't a rat infestation here, is there?"

"No, I'm pretty sure there isn't."

"And no one else is in here besides us."

"There's no one in the locker room besides us," Puck repeated. They paused, considering the implications. Then they both turned to look at the jockstrap, which seemed to glower menacingly at them from the shadows.

"Take this," Puck said, shoving the disinfectant spray bottle into Artie's hands. He ran to the garbage can and pulled out the shaft of a broken hockey stick, which he gripped in front of him like a sword. Crouching low, Puck began to slowly approach the corner. "If anything happens, keep spraying and _don't stop_."

"I got your back," Artie said, cautiously rolling forward behind him.

(~)

"So then I snuck up, step by step, and then BOOYAH! Owned!" Puck stabbed an invisible enemy through the heart.

Santana raised both eyebrows. "You need to lay off the ninja movies."

"What I _need_ is a holster for my nunchucks."

"Whatever. Anyway, I'm not doing it, especially not if it's so Artie can get it on with her again."

"Are you sure? I saw how you were staring at her in glee just now during their group song. You miss her."

"Well you saw wrong. I am totally over it. In fact, I'm putting that all behind me now, because I seriously need to boost my rep. I mean, do you _know_ how much work it took to get where I was? I tanned and tanned, and drank like, _gallons_ of Sue's master cleanse. I was on top_. _I was the one in charge." Santana scowled. _Not someone who'd be rejected for a glee club geek_, she thought.

(~)

"Watch out, the dyke's staring at your ass," one of the Cheerios stage-whispered to the girl next to her. They looked at Santana and didn't bother to hide their sniggers.

"Give me a break." Santana didn't bother to look at them as she fixed her ponytail. "I'm hotter than all of you put together. If I wanted to see something sexy I'd look at myself in a mirror. So," she said, slamming her locker closed, "screw you." There were a few laughs and "yeahs" from the locker room, and Santana's lips quirked up a little.

"You wish," said the first Cheerio.

Santana blew them a kiss and turned to leave.

"Ewww, sexual harassment!" Another girl shrieked. There were a lot more laughs this time.

"Why don't you go stick your fingers in one of the softball players?"

"Nah, she probably wants girls who have boyfriends already." Another stage whisper. "_Threesome!_"

Santana's back stiffened, but she kept walking of the room.

Quinn was watching Brittany, who was trying to open her locker. At the last joke, Brittany froze in the middle of dialing her combination. Her fingers twitched over the dial as if she couldn't remember which way to turn it. Giving up, she pulled the lock and rattled it, then started over.

Quinn nudged her. "Don't you want to do something about this?" she whispered as Brittany finally opened her locker and put her things away.

Brittany kept her eyes fixed on the locker's interior. "I don't know."

"Brittany, the only reason they're not talking about you is because you've made out with half of them."

"Then Santana can go make out with _all_ of them."

Quinn sighed. It was bad enough that Santana and Brittany were angry at each other, but she didn't need any relationship problems interfering with the Cheerios' competition preparation, especially with not much time left before Regionals. _We had enough of that in glee last year, _Quinn thought.

She walked out to the gym, where the Cheerios were spread around in little groups stretching and chatting before practice began. Santana was by herself near a free throw line, standing on one foot and stretching her quadriceps. Quinn made a beeline for her and before Santana could throw any insults, got right to the point.

"Santana, this thing between you and Brittany is a distraction to the squad. I can tell them to cut the gossip, but you need to work out your issues with her, because Regionals is coming up and I don't have time to worry about your drama leaking into our performance, especially with Sue out of town." Quinn paused, and leaned in closer, speaking low. "And it's really weird when you two aren't talking to each other, okay?"

Santana narrowed her eyes and was silent for several seconds, then she smiled a very pasted-on smile. "Don't worry Quinn. I'll take care of it – _you_ won't have to worry about us." She dropped her leg and walked over to the bleachers to get a drink of water. Quinn watched her go and bit her lip, not feeling very reassured.

(~)

As the Cheerios were running warm-up laps around the gym, Santana caught up with a couple of the girls who had laughed with her, rather than at her, in the locker room.

"Hey chicas," she said, keeping pace with them, "thanks for not being bitches back there. Say, have I ever talked to you before?"

The two Cheerios glanced at each other with wide eyes as they jogged next to each other. One spoke up. "Um, last month- you told me I looked like- Christopher Walken. But- I totally took it as a compliment," she quickly added.

"Cool. Anyway, guess what I heard. Quinn said she doesn't have time to worry about Cheerios. I could _not_ believe it. I mean, what else could she be spending her time on?"

"Isn't she also in- in glee with you?" asked the other girl, huffing and puffing a little.

"You know, she is, and she's been really into it after she got a big number at Sectionals... funny, huh?" The two girls looked at each other and frowned. "Well, it's been nice talking to you! Later," Santana said, and she sped up.

(~)

During a water break, Santana sidled up to another group of Cheerios, who watched her warily as she approached. "I just wanted to let you know I don't have any hard feelings about your joking in the locker room today," Santana said, all smiles.

"Oh really," said one girl, raising an eyebrow. The others looked equally doubtful.

"Oh yeah," Santana nodded. "I appreciate you being up front about it. It's what I'd do – like if I thought you were hot, I'll tell you to your face – be direct, you know? Not like some people, talking behind your back." She gave them a meaningful look.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well... I'm gonna be straight with you here." Santana waited a beat for a few uneasy smiles to show up. "Ha. Yeah, you got that. So don't tell that I told you, but Quinn thinks you're losing focus. She just told me she thinks you're _distracted_."

"What? That's so not fair!"

"We've been working harder than ever!"

"Oh I totally know, I see it every practice." Santana shrugged. "But I'm just telling you what I heard."

(~)

After practice, Santana walked up to a few Cheerios who were sprawled out on the gym floor, nursing their aching muscles. "Tough practice, huh?" She put on a sympathetic face.

"Maybe, so what?" One of the girls said suspiciously.

"Oh, I was just thinking that it seems so different from what we did last year. You know, after Quinn got kicked out for being pregnant. Right before we won Regionals and Nationals," Santana pointed out.

"Yeah," another Cheerio piped up, "it was a lot different when you were in charge. We still kicked everyone's asses though!" There were laughs and cheers from the exhausted girls.

"Last year _was_ awesome," Santana said, nodding. "Too bad we've got someone so – _inexperienced_ leading us. I mean, she didn't cheer for what, six months? Oh well," she said nonchalantly, "guess we can't do anything about it." The looks on the girls' faces were a combination of worried and thoughtful, and Santana picked up her bag and headed for the locker room, smiling to herself.

(~)

The next day, Jacob caught up with Santana in the hall between classes. "Santana!"

"What is it now Jewfro? I'm not making any deals with you," she warned.

"Is it true that there's been a surge of discontent within the rank and file Cheerios? That there's talk of ousting Quinn Fabray from the head cheerleader position?"

Santana stopped. "Where did you hear that?" she asked.

"Uh-uh. My sources are secret and well-hidden, just like the unbridled passion that I know a certain diva holds in her heart for me." Jacob sighed wistfully, and Santana looked slightly nauseous. Jacob shook himself back to reality. "So can you confirm the truth of this?"

Santana looked at him, a gleam of satisfaction in her eye.

(~)

Quinn walked into the locker room and was met by a wall of angry Cheerios. They crossed their arms and stood silently with stony faces.

"What is this?" Quinn asked.

One at a time, the Cheerios stepped forward to air their grievances.

"Quinn, we're taking a stand against _tyranny_!" There were cheers from the girls.

"And we are tired of your _reign _of_ terror!" _ More cheers, and applause.

"We're sick of _suffering_ under the yoke of your _oppression_!" Cheers and applause, fists thrust in the air.

"Also, we feel you don't appreciate our _effort_ and aren't truly committed to our _success!_" Silence. The other Cheerios stared at the girl who spoke; one shook her head in disappointment, and the girl shrank back into the mob.

The first girl spoke up again. "Anyway, we've taken a vote, and we don't want you as head cheerleader any more."

Quinn was flabbergasted. "You've _got_ to be kidding me."

"We're not. And we've picked Santana as our new head cheerleader."

Quinn nearly sprained something in her disbelief. "_Santana?_ Come on – is this a joke?" But Quinn watched as almost the entire group walked over to stand with Santana, who smiled evilly at her. Only Brittany and Becky stayed next to Quinn. "Oh my God you guys. You can't do this! Cheerleading is not a democracy!"

Santana stepped forward. "Well then consider this a popular revolution. Face it Quinn, you can't be much of a leader when no one's following you. On the upside, this means _you_ don't have to worry about us any more." With a smirk, Santana headed out the door with the rest of the Cheerios in tow, brushing Quinn and Brittany and Becky aside.

Brittany watched them go anxiously. She and Quinn looked at each other, and in one glance Quinn knew what Brittany would do. Whether it was a choice between cheerleading and not cheerleading, or Santana and Quinn, it was obvious. Brittany pushed herself away from the wall to follow the others. "Sorry Quinn," she said, and ran out the door to catch up.

"What are we going to do?" asked Becky.

Quinn paced, holding her head in her hands. "This is insane. Regionals is coming up. Sue will eviscerate me." She turned to Becky. "You must have Sue's contact information, right?"

"Sue didn't leave any," Becky shrugged. "She only said, '_if anything happens, burn it all._'"

Quinn groaned. "I think we need a Plan B."

(~)

The next day after the end of classes, Santana was at her locker touching up her lipstick when Quinn stormed up.

"Santana! I saw Jacob's blog! I know you're behind this! You're not going to get away with it!" Then she stormed off again into the crowd.

Santana stuck her tongue out at Quinn's back.

A few seconds later, Jacob Ben Israel cruised by, pointing an accusatory finger.

"Santana! You manipulated me and my blog! That is unfair and inappropriate and unethical!" His finger remained pointing at her as he moved away and into the rush of students.

"But the power of social media was just too _tempting_," she called out as she filed her nails.

"Santana!"

Santana was kind of running of patience with these drive-by accusations. She continued to file her nails, and then looked to up to see Puck standing next to her.

"Oh, hi Puck."

"You didn't talk to Britt."

"I told you I was busy. I'm finally back on top in Cheerios where I should be_, _and then I had to practice with Mike and Tina and Sam for glee." She smiled, pleased with her nails, and pleased with herself. Things weren't all fixed yet, but at least being head cheerleader meant no one – including the Cheerios – dared to talk about who she wanted to sleep with (well, unless it was their boyfriend or something), plus she got to one-up Quinn. It was a nice twofer.

"You know, I don't think she was too happy that you kept grinding on me - and Finn - and uh, Mercedes - during your performance."

"That was the choreography."

"Funny, I didn't see Mike or Tina or Sam doing that."

Santana put her nail file away. "I was improvising."

"If you say so."

"Hey Puckerman." Santana and Puck turned to see Lauren standing behind them.

"Yeah?"

"So I heard your ex is into the ladies now." Lauren nodded at Santana, who rolled her eyes. "Just thought you might want to know there are other options out there. You know what they say – bigger is better." Lauren gave Puck a smirk and a wink. Puck raised his eyebrows.

"You know what else they say?" Santana said, stepping forward. "If you can't pick 'em up, don't pick 'em up." Puck said "ooo" under his breath, and looked back and forth between the two.

Lauren merely smiled. "That's okay, I see Puckerman's been working out." She patted his bicep and walked away. Puck looked intrigued. Santana curled her lip as Lauren walked by, then slapped Puck's arm when he turned his head to watch.

"What?" Puck shrugged.

Santana left him and ran to catch Lauren by the arm.

"What the hell was _that_?"

With infinite patience, Lauren regarded Santana. "Didn't you listen to what I told you before? You have to do what you can to get the one you want. I'm taking my own advice."

"You seriously think Puck's going to go for _you?_"

"Since you're preoccupied with sublimating your lady-lust for blondie, I plan to be right there when he goes looking for someone else to gently run their fingers through his mohawk. Or you know, whatever." Lauren pulled her arm out of Santana's grasp and walked off, but not without tossing a last word over her shoulder. "You know what they say – get it while you can."

Santana was about to yell a reply but stopped. "Ain't that the truth," she muttered.


	11. Chapter 11

News traveled quickly at McKinley. When Santana arrived at school, a flurry of whispers moved down the hallway like a wave, except this time the words it carried were "Cheerios" and "overthrow" and "queen bitch," instead of "lezzie" and "slut" and just plain "bitch." The crowd parted before her, and in their eyes she saw fear and admiration and lust. It was just like old times.

She saw her history teacher approaching. Upon seeing her, he immediately scurried out of the way and backed himself up against the wall to let her go by.

A couple of McKinley basketball players were leaning against the lockers when she walked by. "Heeeeyyy, girl."

"Hey, boys." She licked her lips and made a "call me" gesture with her hand.

Two freshman Cheerios batted their eyelids and made flirtatious finger-waves at her, their pleated skirts swaying back and forth.

Okay, that was a new twist, but it was only to be expected. Santana waved back, and they giggled and swooned.

Santana smiled. It was good to be on top.

Then Brittany turned the corner, pushing Artie. They were talking and smiling at each other, but when Brittany noticed Santana in the hallway, her smile flickered. Santana's expression froze and her steps slowed. Brittany looked back at Artie, and they continued on down the hallway. Santana kept her eyes fixed forward, but everything else faded into a noisy blur as Brittany's figure became the one and only focus of Santana's attention. Just as they were passing, they both dared to glance at each other, and the sudden familiar spark of eyes meeting made them both turn away.

Santana stared ahead. Sometimes it was lonely at the top.

(~)

"Guys, I have to say that this final group performance was very moving." Mr. Schue and the rest of the glee club members applauded as Rachel and Quinn bowed and Finn and Puck doffed their sombreros. "And the uh, interpretive dance from Finn and Puck was... thought-provoking. Though I'm not sure your depiction of the Mexican Revolution was historically accurate."

"Can we get extra credit in Spanish for this?" asked Finn.

Mr. Schue grimaced. "Uh- I'll think about it. But kudos on the teamwork."

"Yes, we decided that we would choose a song from the list that exemplifies camaraderie," Rachel explained. "Especially considering we were assigned to a team which was virtually _guaranteed_ to fracture from intra-group tension," she said, glaring at Mr. Schuester. Finn and Quinn glanced at each other. Puck and Finn glanced at each other. Quinn and Puck glanced at each other. They all glanced at Rachel, who was still watching Mr. Schue.

"Well Rachel, you did an admirable job managing," Mr. Schue smiled at her. "Now on to the exciting part!" He fanned out a stack of four blank envelopes in front of him. "I have here in my hands the winners' prizes. This time, we've got... gift certificates to The Pie Warehouse!"

"Say what?"

"The Pie Warehouse?"

"Yay...?"

"I'm don't care that much about the winner now."

Mr. Schue's face fell. "Aw come on guys, you were so excited about this last time."

"I'd really rather have Breadstix," muttered Tina, and there were murmurs of agreement.

Mr. Schue rubbed his temples. "On with the show. And the winners are... group number 1! Artie, Brittany, Kurt, Mercedes, here you go and congratulations!" He handed out an envelope to each of them. "You had a great song and a fantastic dance routine. I really, really loved that song."

Kurt opened the envelope and sighed. "Mercedes, as much as I'd like to have a girl's night out with you, pie crusts are terrible for both my figure and my complexion," he said, eyeing his gift certificate and looking slightly ill. He handed the gift certificate to Tina. "Here you go Tina, my compliments."

"Thanks Kurt. I think," said Tina.

"You guys shouldn't knock Pie Warehouse until you've tried it," said Artie. "It is totally _off _da _hook_."

"I'm glad someone appreciates it," said Mr. Schue.

Finn spoke up. "Hey Mr. Schue, next time we have a competition you should get gift certificates to Thank Goodness It's Deep-Fried. That place is great." There were nods of agreement, except from Kurt, who made a gagging noise.

Mr. Schue sighed.

(~)

Quinn stood in front of the Cheerios equipment room entrance, with her arms wide and her hands flat against the closed door.

"Out of the way, Tubbers," said Santana. Behind her stood the rest of the Cheerios, looking about ready to grab torches and pitchforks.

"You can't get in, Santana," said Quinn. "I've got the only key."

"Bullshit. I still have my key from last year." Santana shoved Quinn aside and tried the key in the lock, then rattled the doorknob. "What the hell?"

"I had the locks changed while everyone was in class," said Quinn. She laughed, with only a slight tinge of insanity. "_None_ of you are getting into this room."

"How can we practice without the harnesses and flame retardant?" asked one Cheerio.

"We're not ready to do the routine without the airbags yet," said another girl.

"Quinn," Brittany pleaded, "I need my wingsuit."

"Over my dead body!" said Quinn. "No matter what Santana says, I'm the head cheerleader!" She pointed her finger at all of them. "I earned this spot, and I don't care about your corrupt vote, I don't care what Jacob's blog says – about _anything_ –" Quinn looked at Santana, "and not one of you has complained to my face about me up until three days ago." Quinn flashed another look at Santana, who stepped forward and promptly got in said face.

"We'll break down the door!"

"You'll break your nails!"

"I'll get a locksmith!"

"I've already got three flamethrowers on-call!"

"You wouldn't!"

"Just try me, you-"

"_What_'s going on here?" The voice of one Sue Sylvester echoed through the hallway.

(~)

Sue leaned back in her chair with her arms behind her head. "Santana, let me tell you, being away from Ohio all this time has made me feel like a new woman. I spent the entire week consuming nothing but pickled herring and aquavit; it was like being embalmed from the inside out. I figure it'll slow down cell decay for another couple of years." Sue's gaze turned faraway. "Oh yes, Death, you may cheat at backgammon, but I'll find a way to beat you yet."

"Uh, Coach, why did you call me in here?" Santana fidgeted a little.

"Right, yes. I have detailed reports telling me that while I was away, you engineered a coup and usurped Quinn's position as head cheerleader." Coach Sylvester peered at Santana over the top of the printouts Becky had prepared. "Is this true?"

Santana squirmed. "It's not like that-"

"Oh really," Sue interrupted. "Now, this seems like classic Santana – yet this power grab was so obviously ham-fisted." She put on a look of puzzled concern. "If this were true, if it were all your doing, why, I'd be disappointed that your once razor-sharp instinct for social manipulation had been so dulled. _If _it were true." Sue rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "It would be as if something were... distracting you. Something that made you desperate and emotional and liable to make hasty errors. Something like..." Sue shuffled through a few papers and put her finger on the paper, "ah yes." She leaned forward. "Being secretly _gay for Brittany_."

It was as if Santana's heart was trying to leap out through her throat, with her stomach following close behind. "I- I- can explain, please-"

Sue continued. "I _am_ glad you finally oriented yourself. Granted, you really need to own your lesbitude more – you know how I hate sneaky gays – but it's a step in the right direction. I suggest cutting your hair shorter and listening to the Indigo Girls. Maybe a little flannel." Santana looked faintly horrified, and Sue furrowed her eyebrows. "Is that even what lesbians do these days? Well, you can Google it."

Sue shook a pen at Santana. "Now, let me tell you a story about stealing power. Consider the example of that great Ohioan, Rutherford B. Hayes. Did he say, 'oh no Samuel J. Tilden, America thinks you're more popular than me, I'm going to sleep with a few more football players and hope for the best when the next election rolls around'? No! He knew how to strike a bargain. He said, 'you know what, Democrats? If you give me the Presidency, I'll give you a Cabinet seat and save you a spot at all of my fabulous, Dionysian White House orgies, where the wine will flow like the waters of the great Mississippi River. Because we Republicans know how to party.' And with stars in their eyes, the Democrats conceded." Sue paused. "But three weeks after the inauguration Hayes said, 'sorry boys, we spent all our booze money on top hats and novelty flags. Instead, have twenty gallons of my dear wife Lucy's delicious lemonade.' "

Santana frowned. "So... I should trick people into coming to alcohol-free parties?"

Sue groaned. "Some days I don't know why I even bother." She shook her head. "Santana, your seditious little escapade was so disappointingly executed that I almost packed up my office, walked down the hall, and told Figgins he could have his soul back. Almost. But know now that all my Cheerio-berating power flows through Quinn in my absence, like the spirit of Ra through the ancient god-kings of Egypt. And as such, your hostile takeover of the Cheerios is a direct affront to my authority." She sighed and took off her reading glasses.

"I'm sorry Santana. You're off the squad."

* * *

**A/N:** It's not super important to the story, but in my head, the songs each group sang during glee club were "Does Your Mother Know", "Take a Chance On Me" and "Fernando".


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** I've been really busy at work lately, which is why it took so long to update and why this chapter is so short. :-/ Also, um... I apologize in advance.

* * *

Loser. LOSER. Coach Sylvester didn't like losers, she liked winners. Only winners were on Cheerios. Santana was no longer a Cheerio, because she was a L.O.S.E.R. She lost her spot on the Cheerios, she lost Brittany to Artie, she lost her status, there was a giant red 'L' on her forehead, she'd been written off, she was now Queen of the Lima Losers.

(~)

Kurt laughed. "So this weekend Blaine and I almost - oh my God." His eyes widened and he grabbed Mercedes's arm. "Train wreck at two o'clock."

Mercedes and Tina turned to see someone coming closer to them, dressed in baggy gray sweatpants and and an oversized gray hooded sweatshirt. From underneath the enormous, face-obscuring hood they heard Santana quietly singing to herself as she passed by.

"_...Soy un perdedor..._"

Mercedes looked at Tina and Kurt. Tina's mouth was hanging open in a slack-jawed frown. Kurt was clutching his lapels in horror. When Mercedes spoke, it was the same thought that was on each of their minds.

"Santana's lost it."

(~)

It took three full class periods to pull herself out of her stupor. In the middle of glee, Santana blearily looked up to find Mr. Schuester calling her name and everyone else staring at her. Apparently she was supposed to be cabbage-patching across the room with the rest of the glee club, but Mr. Schue took her aside and kindly suggested she go talk to Ms. Pillsbury. So she picked up her non-Cheerios backpack and walked out of the room in her non-Cheerios clothes to see Ms. Pillsbury, who gave Santana another incredibly depressing look of sympathy and asked her if there was anything she wanted to talk about.

"As a matter of fact, I was wondering something..." Ms. Pillsbury nodded at Santana eagerly, so she continued. "Does Dr. Howell give his regular patients good _service_? Because I could really use some _oral care._"

"Santana!"

The conversation went downhill from there. After twenty minutes of awkwardness, the bell rang and Santana managed to escape. Ms. Pillsbury insisted that she take a few pamphlets: _Hey, We Can't All Be Winners; Softball: Not Just for Lesbians, But Still, You Know; _and_ Annie and Danny On My Mind. _She stuffed the pamphlets into her backpack and headed out into the hallway.

It came unexpectedly. One moment Santana was avoiding eye contact with the people around her and counting the steps until she reached her locker, the next moment there was the breathless shock of crushed ice hitting her face and sugary syrup stinging her eyes. Gasping, she wiped her face with trembling hands. She looked down to see red slush splashed all over her sweatshirt, blinked, and felt the sluggish drip of ice crystals off her eyebrows and nose and chin. Laughter echoed down the hallway behind her.

Then just as an awful, burning heat began to rush to her face, there were hands grabbing each of her arms, and she looked left and right to see Kurt and Mercedes steering her down the hall and into the girls' restroom.

"Don't worry, we've got this process down pat," Mercedes told her.

"I carry a stain stick with me at all times for just such a situation," said Kurt.

Santana could only manage a nod, and was relieved to stay silent as the two of them fluttered and fussed about, dabbing paper towels at Santana's face and hair and clothes and chatting back and forth. After a few minutes Santana was mostly cleaned up, and she found her voice again.

"I'll get those jerks. I'll _get_ them." Tears began to fill her eyes, and she inhaled a harsh, unsteady breath try to stave them off.

"Karofsky and Azimio?" Mercedes asked, and she and Kurt shared a glance. "But what are you going to do? It's not like you're a Cheerio any more."

Kurt nodded. "Face it, you're at the bottom of the food chain now," he said, though not without sympathy. "Just like us."

_Just like us... just like us... just like us... _The words echoed horribly in Santana's mind. She imagined a bleak future of daily slushying, needing to keep extra changes of clothing in her locker, and cringing every time a letter-jacketed jock walked by with plastic cup in hand. _A powerless loser nobody, just like us._

(~)

Santana woke up to a cheery yellow sunrise.

"It's time for school!"

She put on a crisp white blouse and buttoned it up all the way to the collar, then she pulled her favorite sweater vest over it; it was chilly outside after all. Then she put another sweater vest and blouse set into a large ziploc bag, sealed it carefully, and placed it into her backpack.

When she got to school she scanned the parking lot, noted all of the jock and Cheerio groupings, and plotted a path to the front door which maximized the distance from each danger zone. Nimbly she darted from a tree to a hedge to a bicycle rack, and made it into the school without a single spitwad tossed her way.

_Not bad!_ Santana smiled. She could feel it in her bones, this was going to be a good day. Filled with a new confidence, she strutted down the middle of the hall toward her locker.

"Morning nerderella!" Karofsky's blue raspberry slushie hit her squarely in the face. She blinked the ice out of her eyes while all around her people laughed in terrible, mocking slow motion. Karofsky high-fived Azimio, and as they walked away they whooped it up with a gaggle of giggling Cheerios who had seen the whole thing as it happened.

Brittany was one of them. Santana sighed wistfully as Brittany threw back her head in joyous, carefree laughter while the others imitated Santana's look of shock and flailing hands as she got slushied. Santana's shoulders drooped, and she stepped carefully through the blue puddle of slush-melt and leaned wearily against her locker. So much for a good day.

Unexpectedly, a hand proffered a clean towel at her, and she gratefully took it and wiped the slushie off her face. She looked up to see who her good samaritan was.

"Jacob?" Santana wrinkled her nose. "Why do you smell like old lasagna?"

Jacob Ben Israel pushed his glasses up on his nose. "That's yesterday's lunch. Puck started his dumpster tossing early today." He brushed some grated parmesan off his sleeve. "Say, you wanna make out?"

Santana considered her options. She sighed. "I guess so."

"Awesome."

Jacob pulled her body toward his, and she gasped. Their lips crashed together and their tongues battled for dominance. Jacob's breath tasted like Doritos.

"Cool Ranch," murmured Santana. "My favorite."

Jacob grinned. "Yeah, baby."

(~)

Santana screamed.

"Santana! Are you all right?" Kurt and Mercedes rushed to her side.

"No! Yes! Just- let go of me, I'm getting out of here," she snapped. As she grabbed her backpack and turned to leave, the door opened. Brittany took one step inside, stopped, and stared.

"I heard what happened," said Brittany. She walked toward Santana as if approaching a wild animal, then slowly she raised her hand and reached out to brush a clump of ice off Santana's collar. "Did it hurt?" Brittany briefly let her fingers rest where they were, then moved to lightly touch Santana's cheek.

Santana felt a painful twist in her chest and her face flushed. She pulled away from Brittany and ran out the door.

"Leave me alone," she yelled over her shoulder as the door swung shut.

(~)

Instead of going to back to class, Santana decided she was skipping the rest of the day and went home. Being a loser was totally draining; she didn't know how the glee kids did it every day. When she arrived home, she showered off the last traces of slushie, changed into a clean oversized gray hooded sweatshirt, crawled into bed, and fell asleep.


	13. Chapter 13 Part 1

**A/N:** So much for finishing before the Super Bowl, bleh. This chapter is in two parts because it ended up so long.

* * *

Santana was dreaming of gold, golden hair and golden light and golden skin; Santana was dreaming of blue, blue eyes and blue sky and blue water.

She ran along the green banks of a river alongside waves lit burning white by the sun. Her feet carried her over the soft grass as easily as if she were weightless. Not far ahead of her was her prey, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed nymph dressed in flowing robes that fluttered behind her as she sprinted to keep ahead of Santana.

But Santana was a master of this game. She pulled up a little, pretending to be winded, and when the nymph looked back and unwisely relaxed, Santana sprinted ahead. Santana caught up to her prize, wrapped her arms around her from behind, and spoke into her ear.

"You're mine."

Brittany, for of course it was Brittany, spun around in her arms and looked at Santana with a twinkle in her eye.

"That's what you think."

Then Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana, which made Santana smirk. As far as she was concerned Brittany could pretend all she wanted, but Santana had clearly won. She pulled their bodies closer and leaned in to steal a kiss. Then Santana felt something wrapping around her ankles and around her waist. She looked down, and saw that Brittany's fingers and toes were _growing_, stretching into long thin snaky vines. They wound around Santana's ankles, pulling them together and anchoring her to the ground. They spiraled around and around Santana's torso, pulling their bodies close together, binding her arms in place around Brittany, and finally painfully plunging into into her chest to squeeze at her heart.

Santana let out a strangled gasp. "Brittany? What- what are you doing? Let me go!" Santana tried to wiggle her ankles out of the vines binding them, but was horrified to see that her feet, along with Brittany's were transforming. A peculiar gray-brown bark-like material was growing up from the ground, up their legs and molding them together into what looked very much like a single, bizarrely shaped tree trunk. Wherever the dull gray surface spread, Santana felt her body immobilize and stiffen.

"Brittany, stop it! Are you crazy?" She tried to lean away, but the motion caused a sharp tugging in her chest, and she gasped and grimaced in pain. "You tricked me! Stop it, you're going to kill me!" By now, Santana could no longer move her legs.

The bark crawled up higher and higher, past her waist, and Santana kept struggling. In vain she twisted her body left and right, feeling the jerk and tug at her heart each time, but the bark couldn't be dislodged or slowed. It grew over her fingers and over her hands, freezing them in place around Brittany.

Santana started to whimper. "Please, let me go." Brittany only smiled at her enigmatically. Santana looked down to see the bark creeping up her torso, and tried with all her might to twist her body out and away, but it clamped down on her ribs, trapping her against Brittany and making it harder to breathe. She began to gasp for air, and with every gasp the tendrils surrounding her heart seemed to tighten.

Brittany still watched her, smiling that strange little smile. Even as the bark grew over Brittany's body too, it didn't seem to bother her at all. If anything, her smile grew wider.

"Please, I'm afraid," Santana said in a small voice, but either Brittany didn't hear her or was ignoring her. Santana's vision grew blurry with tears. This was it, then. She wouldn't be able to escape. This stupid little game was a trap that she'd never be able to walk away from. The bark encased her arms, then her shoulders, and Santana gave up struggling.

As the bark worked its way past her neck and over her ears, the sounds of the wind and the river faded into whispers, which seemed to say along with Brittany's voice, _"It's okay. It's okay. It's okay. I'm here."_ As it grew past her eyes, she felt a touch of lips on her forehead, her breathing slowed, and everything grew still and warm and dark.

(~)

"Wake up."

"Hrrmgh?"

"Santana, wake up!"

Santana opened one eye. "Oh, it's _you_."

Mercedes sniffed. "Try not to be so thrilled. We are here-" she turned to include Tina, "to stage an intervention. So _you_ are coming with me and Tina." She pulled at Santana's arm. Santana snatched her arm back and slapped Mercedes's hands away, burrowing back under the covers.

Tina watched them battle from the other side of the bed. "Actually Mercedes was feeling guilty because she didn't try harder to keep you from doing something dumb. So she wanted to take you out to dinner to cheer you up."

"Tina!" Mercedes glared at her.

"She made me come along," Tina added.

"Dinner?" Santana threw the covers back. Visions of breadsticks danced in her head.

Tina looked surprised. "You mean you want to go? Willingly? With us?"

Santana sat up. "A girl's gotta eat. And now since I'm like, the lowest of the low, it won't matter if I'm seen with you two anyway."

(~)

"Hello? This is _not_ the way to Breadstix!"

"We're not _going_ to Breadstix. We have gift certificates and we're going to The Pie Warehouse."

Santana began to sniffle. Tina patted Santana's shoulder. Mercedes rolled her eyes.

(~)

"Oh no. Guess who else is here," Tina whispered. "No, don't look!"

Santana turned around to see Artie and Brittany being seated at a table across the room. "Shit." She pulled the sweatshirt hood over her head and slumped down a little in the booth. "It's just getting better and better. Thanks a lot, Weezy."

"I didn't know they were going to be here! It doesn't look like they've seen us-"

"Are you ready to order? Ladies, what can I get you?" The waiter appeared with his order pad in hand.

"I'll have the chicken pot pie," said Mercedes.

"The Cornish pasty, please," said Tina.

"Empanadas," said Santana. "Hey, I thought this place made the pies at your table? I don't see any little pie ovens here."

"Oh, that's at the pie bar." He pointed to a long wooden counter across the room, which was filled end-to-end with patrons. On the other side of a glass partition, chefs in white were busy filling pans and rolling out dough. "You can see your pie being baked from start to finish there. We call it The Pipeline."

"Well why can't _we_ sit there?" asked Santana. "Move us."

"I'm really sorry, but it's completely full tonight so I won't be able to reseat you." Santana's face fell and her lower lip began to tremble. The waiter noticed this and hesitated. "Um, people actually have to reserve places at the bar well in advance since it's so popular."

Santana burst into tears. Mercedes and Tina shooed the startled waiter away as they tried to comfort her, and he scurried off looking as if he was mentally writing off any chances of a good tip.

Meanwhile, Santana sobbed into her napkin. "This is, like, the _worst day ever."_

(~)

"Hey, aren't those the kids from Vocal Adrenaline?" Mercedes pointed a few booths away.

"I think so. Britt said the popular kids from Carmel really like this place."

"Wow. They all look like they've gained twenty-five pounds."

"Hmm. I wonder why." The three girls looked down at their piping hot entrees, with flaky golden-brown crusts and decadent, savory fillings. Signs hanging from the ceiling boasted, "Our pie crusts are made with 100% pure lard!", "Try our new breakfast pies, served until 11 AM!", and "Pie – it's what's for dinner!"

"Eh, I dunno."

"Yeah, beats me."

(~)

Mercedes returned from the restroom just in time to spot Santana reaching over to drop a piece of what looked like a drinking straw wrapper into her food. She put a hand to her forehead. "Lord, give me patience," she murmured to herself, and ran back to the table.

"Hey!" Mercedes slid into her seat, and Santana immediately pulled back her hand and crossed her arms. "I told you to watch her," Mercedes said to Tina.

"Sorry," said Tina.

"And _you. _I'm glad to see you acting more like yourself, but _keep_ your hands _out_ of my pie," Mercedes said, pulling her plate closer to herself.

Santana made a face at her. "Whatever, I wasn't trying that hard anyway."

(~)

Santana forced Mercedes and Tina to switch sides of the booth with her so that she could keep an eye on Brittany and Artie. It wasn't making her day any better, though; by the time they were finishing up their entrees, Santana had seen Brittany and Artie kiss and hold hands several times. At first Santana scoffed or pretended to gag at these affectionate moments, but halfway through dinner her reactions changed into sighs and groans. Once, Brittany leaned over to wipe something off the corner of Artie's mouth with her thumb, then licked her thumb seductively; Santana, watching, nearly stabbed herself with a fork.

Mercedes exhaled in frustration. "Tina, I apologize for dragging you along to dinner with Mopey over there. I know you'd probably rather come here with Mike."

"Oh, it's all right," Tina said, shrugging. "Mike's mom didn't want pie."

Mercedes raised an eyebrow, and Tina nodded as if to say, _yeah, I know_. Mercedes shook her head and laughed. "That boy needs to untie himself from his momma's apron strings. But at least he's cute."

"And he's got really nice abs," Tina said.

"So does Brittany," Santana said absently, looking toward Brittany's table as she chewed on her food. Brittany laughed at something Artie said, and Santana sighed again.

Tina opened her mouth to say something and paused as if reconsidering. Finally she spoke. "You know, you could maybe just go and talk to her?"

Santana looked off to the side. "I can't," she said.

"She does care about you," Mercedes said gently. "She came looking for you today, after all."

"Probably just feeling sorry for me." Mercedes made a disbelieving noise, and Santana leaned forward and rested her head on the tabletop. "Look, it's not that easy. She's _happy_ with Artie. But-" Santana swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat, "I want her to be happy with _me_. And if she doesn't want that too, I can't go through all this again, okay?"

There was a glum silence. Santana sat up. "I need some dessert."


	14. Chapter 13 Part 2

It took twenty minutes for dessert to arrive. Santana threw a dirty look at the waiter's back as he left the table.

"Well, we _finally_ got a piece of the pie," said Mercedes.

"Yeah, the service here is a lot slower than at Breadstix," said Tina. "I mean, how long can it take to cut a few slices?"

Santana nodded. "Carmel kids obviously don't know high-class dining."

(~)

"They're leaving." Santana frowned. "Artie and Brittany."

Tina looked over her shoulder and gasped. "Uh oh, they're coming this way. Hide!" Tina ducked under the table, but before Mercedes or Santana could do anything, Brittany had spotted them and was approaching their table; Artie had apparently diverted toward the restrooms.

"Hi." Brittany looked at Santana, then fixed her gaze on Santana's water glass.

"Hi." Santana looked at Brittany, then stared intently at the reflection of the lights on the polished tabletop.

Mercedes cleared her throat in the midst of the awkwardness. "Girl, what a coincidence! We had no idea you were here! What are you up to?"

"I'm here with Artie. On a date," Brittany said. Santana flinched. Brittany's glance flicked backed and forth between Santana and Mercedes. "Are you guys on a date too?" Mercedes furrowed her eyebrows, and from underneath the table there was an odd snorting sound.

Santana opened her mouth, closed it again, narrowed her eyes, then pasted a fake smile on her face. "Yes," she said, reaching across the table and covering Mercedes's hand with her own. Mercedes's eyes bugged out of her head and she tried to pull her hand away, but Santana clamped her fingers down on it. Brittany looked a little confused.

"Brittany, we're not- ow, my leg!" Mercedes winced and reached down to rub the spot where Santana had kicked her.

Santana leaned forward and put on a look of concern. "Mercedes baby, you should get that checked out. I'll get my dad to recommend someone excellent." She turned back to Brittany. "Yes, we _are_ on a date. What Mercedes was saying is that we're not exclusive yet, but I think we might make it official any day now. We gots a _spark_." The table started to shake a little, but Santana ignored that and smiled sweetly at Mercedes. Mercedes felt a muscle twitch under her eye and tried again (unsuccessfully) to pull her hand away.

"Oh," Brittany said. She seemed to be unsure of what to say. "So... after you left today, I was afraid you might try to drown yourself in breadsticks, just like that one time..."

Santana coughed and gave a faint shake of her head at Brittany.

"...But I guess you didn't. I'm happy you're feeling better now," Brittany concluded, her face unreadable. "Is that my sweatshirt?"

Startled, Santana glanced down at herself and hunched her shoulders a little. "Oh. Maybe. So what? Fine, you know what, just take it." Santana pulled the sweatshirt off and pushed it into Brittany's hands. Underneath she wore a simple WMHS t-shirt, and she shivered at the sudden lack of warmth.

Brittany looked at the bundle in her arms and chewed at her bottom lip. "I'm glad you have someone to give sweet lady kisses to, Santana." Brittany turned to Mercedes. "But just be careful. If a hot guy comes along Santana won't need you to digest her food any more." Brittany turned and walked away to where Artie was waiting at the door. Mercedes narrowed her eyes at Santana and jerked her hand away.

"Yes!" Santana slapped the table with both hands. "She was totally jealous!" The plates and silverware began to shake again several seconds after impact and Santana looked down at her hands. "What is wrong with this table?"

Mercedes peered under the table, where Tina was hunched over, hugging the table leg and convulsing.

"Tina, are you all right?"

Tina looked up. She had a huge smile and tears were streaming down her face. "I can't breathe- I can't- laughing- ohmygod- stomach-hurts," she forced out, between gasps. Her shoulders started shaking again and on the table, ice cubes clinked against the sides of the water glasses.

Mercedes sighed. "Try to take deep breaths," she said, and sat back up to glare at Santana. "Are you crazy? You have to start talking to her again so you can _tell_ her that we're not dating. Or considering dating. Or _friends_."

Santana waved a hand. "I'll take care of it, don't be ridiculous," she said. "Dating you would totally bring down what little is left of my rep." Tina wheezed underneath the table, and Mercedes leaned over.

"They're both gone. You can come out now."

Tina poked her head out from under the table and began to climb back into her seat next to Mercedes. "Speaking of coming out-" she started. Then she collapsed on the seat in another silent fit of laughter and helplessly slapped the vinyl cushion with one hand.

Santana ignored her. "Anyway, did you see that? Britt was like, monster jealous."

"I actually thought she seemed a little... sad."

"I _know_ Brittany. She was jealous and that's that," Santana insisted, but she looked thoughtful.

(~)

The girls got up to leave. On the way out, they passed the Vocal Adrenaline table.

"Nice outfit." One of the Vocal Adrenaline guys wolf-whistled at Santana.

_Worst day ever_. Santana turned with her hands on her hips. "You know, I am not in the mood, so shove it."

"You might be in the mood after we spank your asses at Regionals."

"If you can even _get_ off your fat asses." Santana gave him the finger and nearly lost her balance as Mercedes and Tina tried to push her toward the door.

"Just let it be," Mercedes whispered in Santana's ear. "We're getting out of here."

"Ha! Not as fat as your _girlfriend,_" the guy called back at her. The three girls stopped short.

"Oh no you did not," Mercedes said. Santana's hands clenched into fists. Tina shook her head.

"This won't end well," Tina said to no one in particular.

Wordlessly, Santana picked up a piece of strawberry-rhubarb pie from a passing dessert cart, leaned forward, and smashed it directly into the loudmouth's face. Santana licked her fingers, and the Vocal Adrenaline kids gasped in well-rehearsed unison.

Mercedes cocked her head at Santana, looking both gratified and impressed. "Damn, girl."

"You- you bitch!" The guy wiped his eyes with his sleeve and jumped to his feet.

Without taking her eyes off the now-fuming loudmouth, Santana stuck her hand back. "Pie," she demanded.

Tina grabbed a piece of lemon meringue pie off a nearby table and helpfully placed it in Santana's hand. "Pie!" she replied. As if on cue, the rest of the Vocal Adrenaline members at the table jumped to their feet and reached for the nearest food at hand, and all the diners in the vicinity scrambled to vacate their booths and tables. It was _on_.

(~)

"I am never, ever taking you anywhere ever again," grumbled Mercedes. She tried to pull globs of blueberry filling out of her hair, then leaned down to clean off her hand in a pile of snow.

"Some kind of fake girlfriend you are," said Santana. She wiped whipped cream off her nose. "As if I'd want to go anywhere with you anyway."

"Well, we definitely won't be coming back _here_, since we're banned for life and everything," said Tina, shaking crumbs out of her black lace. "They could have at least given us some paper towels."

All three of them carefully climbed into Mercedes's car. "You're getting the cleaning bill for this," Mercedes warned Santana.

(~)

Santana's mother did a double-take when she walked in the door. "Where have you been? And what is all that on your clothes?"

Santana paused on her way upstairs. How best to explain? "Dinner."

"With Brittany?"

She hated how her pulse sped up just from hearing Brittany's name. "No. Why would you think that?"

"Florence said Brittany went up to see you this afternoon after you came home early. I just assumed."

"I was asleep all afternoon. I didn't talk to anyone." Santana looked at her mother strangely and wondered why their housekeeper would have made up something like that. Whatever, though. Right now she just wanted to go to her room and change her clothes for the third time that day. Seriously, if this was what a normal loser day was like, she'd have to start wearing plastic ponchos everywhere.

When she straightened out her bed covers (which had been flung aside in her haste to get to what she thought would be Breadstix), something red and white fell to the floor. Startled, Santana picked it up and turned it over in her hands. It was a soft stuffed doll with yellow yarn hair, dressed in a Cheerio uniform. Santana's breath caught. The last time she had seen the doll, it had been weeks ago in Brittany's bedroom, when they were attempting to study for a test.

(~)

"That creepy doll of yours is watching me," Santana complained. It was freaky. The doll's disturbingly detailed eyes always seemed to follow her wherever she went, like one of those paintings in old horror movies.

"Don't be mean to Brittany Jr.," said Brittany. "She likes to watch you because she thinks you're hot."

"Oh." Santana blinked. "Well... I guess that's all right then." She glanced back at the doll, which now seemed to be making kissy-lips at her.

Brittany smiled.

(~)

Santana's eyes welled up with tears. That was the last time she'd been in Brittany's room and it felt like it was a million years ago. They hadn't even made out that night; mostly they had just made fun of the history teacher and read passages of their textbook out loud in goofy voices, but Santana still missed it.

And apparently Brittany had been here after all. Maybe she did care. Wearily Santana dropped down onto the bed, and though she felt a little silly, hugged the doll close to her chest. She could have sworn it smelled faintly of Brittany's shampoo, and an echo of her dream suddenly came to mind.

_It's okay. I'm here._

Tomorrow, she decided. Tomorrow she'd talk to Brittany.


	15. Chapter 14

**A/N:** So, so sorry it has taken this long to update. I have not abandoned this story! I was really busy in February, then "Sexy" broke my brain and "Original Song" stomped on the pieces of it. :'(

* * *

Santana sat in the driver's seat gripping the steering wheel. Her car was parked by the curb, a few houses down from Brittany's. Next to her on the front passenger seat, Brittany Jr. flopped possessively over a Zac Efron Exclusive Collector's Edition Deluxe DVD Box Set. Cars drove up and down the road past her and the sun was beginning to set.

"I'm forgetting something," she said out loud. She took a deep breath. "What am I forgetting?"

Then her cell phone buzzed, and Santana exhaled in a rush when she saw who sent it.

_My mom says she drove by u 3x_

Then she nearly dropped the phone when it vibrated again in her hand.

_U can come in if u like_

Santana's hands shook as she texted back, _Ok. _ She took another deep breath, grabbed Brittany Jr. and the DVDs, exhaled, took another deep breath, and didn't move. Then she put Brittany Jr. and the DVD set back onto the passenger seat and leaned forward to rest her head on the steering wheel. Her stomach was doing somersaults to the beat of her heart, and her heart was doing a jazz drum solo.

What was so hard about this? All she had to do was get out and walk to Brittany's door. She'd done this hundreds of times before, minus the hyperventilating. But every time she tried, she would get as far as stepping out of her car when a wave of dread would radiate from a point low in her belly and engulf her entire body, weakening her legs and her willpower until she sank back into her seat and closed the door again.

Santana repeated the entire sequence twice and was considering leaving the DVDs on Brittany's doorstep, ringing the doorbell, and running away, when she jumped at a knock on the passenger side window.

She lifted her forehead off the steering wheel to see Brittany peering in. Santana froze for a moment, until she realized that Brittany was dressed in only a t-shirt and jeans and her breath was coming out in puffy clouds of vapor. With shaking hands, she hit the unlock button and pulled the DVDs and Brittany Jr. onto her lap as Brittany opened the door and sat down next to her.

Brittany rubbed her arms and glanced at Santana. "I thought you were going to come in," she said. "Were you sleeping?"

"No! I was... meditating." Santana said. "Yeah, that's it. I hear Russell Brand swears by it."

"Oh, okay. That's sort of like praying, right?" When Santana shrugged, Brittany continued. "You have a steering wheel mark on your forehead."

Santana slapped a hand to her forehead and began to rub it. "Crap."

"Don't worry, that happens to me all the time," said Brittany. "Can we go inside? I'm cold."

"Yeah, sure." This time Santana haltingly opened the door and stood up, clutching the little Cheerio doll and the DVD set close. Brittany shivered and began to jog back to her house. Santana fumbled the items a bit, and after a moment she unzipped her jacket and tucked the doll inside so that only its yarn hair poked out, followed Brittany down the sidewalk to her front door, then up the stairs to Brittany's bedroom. They each sat at one end of Brittany's bed, facing each other.

"So..." Santana cleared her throat. "I brought your DVDs. You left them at my house on Christmas." Then she winced. Maybe starting off with a reminder of their fight wasn't the best thing. "I, um- shit. I forgot to bring your gloves. They're still at my house. I knew I forgot something. I should just-" Santana clamped her lips together and glanced at the door.

Brittany abruptly leaned forward toward her. Santana stiffened, but Brittany only reached out to pick up the DVD set which was sitting next to Santana on the bed. "It's okay, I can get the gloves later." She looked at Santana's tense expression. "I started carrying a couple of gerbils in my coat pockets, so my hands have been pretty warm."

"Gerbils." Santana's eyebrows quirked.

Brittany nodded. "They would poke their heads out and look around when I went for walks. Though when I went to the mall one of them tried to escape and make a nest in a sweater display at Forever 21."

Santana warily eyed Brittany's coat, which was draped over the back of a chair. "They're not in there now, are they?"

"No, they're in a cage in my sister's room," Brittany said. "Poor little guys. After all the screaming and running they won't stay in my pockets any more. I think they're traumatized."

"Okay then... anyway, I also brought your doll back." Santana unzipped her coat and took the doll out from where it had been comfortably snuggled against her chest. It might have been Santana's imagination, but the doll's eyes seemed to glint in annoyance at suddenly being pulled from its warm nest. "When did you come over?"

"After practice. I didn't see you for the rest of the day and I was wondering if you were okay. But you were asleep, and I think you were having a nightmare." Santana grimaced as the image of a tree flashed over Brittany's face. "You should keep her," Brittany said. "It seemed like she helped."

"Well thank you for making room in your busy schedule to take pity on me." Santana hunched slightly and pulled her coat tighter around her body. Almost immediately she added in a softer tone, "I mean it though. Thank you."

"I care about you, you're my best friend. You were my best friend." Brittany looked at Santana sadly. "I miss you."

A knot untwisted inside Santana's chest, and she sighed. "I miss you too."

"Do you think we could be friends again?"

"I'd like that," Santana admitted, and Brittany smiled tentatively at her. "But I thought you were spending all your time with Speed Racer now." This time Santana didn't even try to cover her bitterness.

"He's my boyfriend, Santana."

"Are you happy with him?" There was an edge in her voice.

Brittany looked surprised at the question. "I am." Her gaze turned faraway, and she slowly smiled, as if remembering a cherished secret. "We go on dates. We sing together. He cares about what I think, and how I feel." She looked down at her hands. "I love him, and he loves me." Brittany blushed as she spoke.

Opposite Brittany, Santana felt all the blood draining from her face.

_She's in love with him._

_I'm too late._

_Why did I have to tell her that stupid lizard story?_

_Why did I agree to that ridiculous double date? (Even if it _was_ at Breadstix?)_

_Why didn't I just sing that damn duet with her?_

_Why couldn't I have given her what she wanted?_

Whatever half-formed fantasies she had of Brittany crying in bed at night missing her, Brittany throwing herself at Santana with joyful declarations of true love, Brittany taking her hands and pulling her close and kissing her senseless, all of it evaporated.

(~)

Santana was standing at the edge of a grassy meadow, which was blanketed with flowers as far as the eye could see. The sun was shining, and a light breeze rippled through the grass in waves. In the distance she saw two figures in the meadow, frolicking. Or more precisely, she saw one figure frolicking, and one figure wheeling back and forth in small circles while being frolicked around.

Just then the frolicking figure stopped and looked at Santana. As Santana stood there, Brittany came running toward Santana through the flowers, arms swinging at her sides and laughing happily. She was wearing a white sundress and the sun shone, halo-like, through her golden locks. Santana thought she looked like an angel.

Brittany stopped in front of Santana, breathless and smiling. "Santana, I'm so glad to see you." She took Santana's hands in hers lovingly. "Will you do something for me?"

Santana, who was staring into Brittany's eyes, was also breathless. "Anything," she promised.

"Can you go to the Walgreens down the street and pick up some Benadryl? Artie's wheelchair kicks up a lot of pollen and he's allergic."

"What? I- uh," she sighed. "Sure, Brittany."

"Thanks so much Santana!" Brittany gave her a quick hug, turned to wave at Artie, and took off running away from Santana, back to Artie in the meadow. Santana sighed again, then slowly turned around to go to Walgreens as a single tear trickled down her cheek.

(~)

Santana was so busy imagining her dreams slipping away that she missed Brittany's question. "Huh?"

"How was your date?" Brittany was tracing the pattern of her flowered bedspread with her fingers.

"Date?" Santana blinked. "Ohhh. Oh yeah. Turns out we don't really like each other." She waved a hand. "I'm pretty sure Mercedes doesn't swing that way, actually. In fact it wasn't a date at all."

"So you were lying about that too?"

Santana raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'too'?"

"You never told me about Santa, even when you knew he wasn't real."

_Ugh, why'd I have to go off on her about Santa?_

"If you listened to any of my messages, or read my texts, you know I'm sorry for that. I never meant to lie, but..." She wasn't sure how to explain it. It was the feeling of watching Brittany's face as she opened presents; of seeing Brittany's complete joy in something so many people pretended to be but no one was; of walking a fine line, knowing that any little thing could erase that joy. And the most dangerous little thing of all was Santana herself, because Santana didn't believe in Santa Claus, and Santana didn't believe in magic. Witnessing Brittany's faith in both of those was the closest she thought she would ever get to that kind of wonder.

But Santana didn't have enough words to say all that. "You were so happy believing in Santa. I didn't want to screw it up for you." Santana laughed, without humor. "And then I went and screwed it up anyway."

"It's okay," Brittany said, but a look of melancholy settled on her face. "I understand."

Despite herself, Santana smiled faintly. "Now _you're_ lying."

"How do you know?"

"Because you're a terrible liar." Somehow it came out sounding like a compliment, though Santana hadn't intended it that way.

"I guess, though... it's better knowing the truth." Brittany gave a small shrug. "Even if it hurts."

Santana nodded. "Yeah," she said in a strangled voice, "the truth." It felt like she was standing at a cliff-edge; her heartbeat sped up and her palms were sweaty. "If you want the truth, then– I said I was on a date with Mercedes," she took a deep breath, "to make you jealous."

Brittany was silent for several long seconds.

"Why would you want to do that?" Brittany looked at her guardedly.

_Well why the hell do you think?_ Santana's inner voice snapped, but a competing inner voice piped up.

_Don't be mean._

_If I tell her, she'll hate me._

_Maybe, but I don't think so._

_If I tell her, she'll think I'm a pathetic loser._

_Maybe._

_If I tell her, she won't want to be friends any more._

_Maybe._

_If I tell her, everything will change._

_Yes._

_Why exactly should I do this again?_

_She wants you to tell her the truth._

Santana turned her head to look out the window. The world outside was getting dark, and the room suddenly felt very small.

"The truth is, I'm in love with you." She sneaked a glance at Brittany, who was silently staring at her with wide eyes. "I know I should have told you before, I guess you thought I was trying to keep you away from Artie, but it's not like that. I love you. That's all."

Brittany was still staring and her cheeks had flushed bright pink. "Really?" she said in a small voice. "Santana-"

Santana wrung her hands. "But look, I don't want it to be like, weird or anything. In fact, you can totally pretend I didn't say anything about it, and I won't even act all moony around you, and you can keep dating Artie, and everything will be cool. Right. Like just normal friends." Santana licked her suddenly dry lips. "We're still friends, right?"

The next thing she knew her arms were full of Brittany. "_Best _friends_,_" Brittany said into her hair. "Always."

Santana inhaled the scent of Brittany's shampoo and felt another knot loosen in her chest. "Okay. Okay." Santana pulled away just far enough to look at Brittany, and suddenly she realized how close their faces were. From the way Brittany's breath hitched, she had noticed too. The temptation pulled at her, whispered to her to move closer, because she hadn't done this in far too long and because Brittany was staring at her lips.

Santana closed her eyes. She felt Brittany's breath on her skin. She felt Brittany's back tensing under her hands. She felt Brittany's arms slacken around her as Brittany's hands slid down to rest lightly at Santana's waist. And when she opened her eyes, she saw that Brittany had also closed her eyes and was waiting for whatever was coming. Santana hesitated, and then she rose slightly and pressed her lips to Brittany's forehead.

Santana sat back and pulled her hands safely back to her lap. Brittany's eyelids fluttered open and she blinked at Santana; whether she was disappointed or relieved, Santana couldn't tell. A lump formed in Santana's throat and her eyes began to burn hot. Even though they were officially best friends again, it felt like she had still lost more than she gained.

"Santana, what you said at Christmas..." Brittany began uncertainly. "You really wanted to date me?"

Santana couldn't speak, so she nodded.

"Because you were in love with me then?"

Santana nodded again as tears began to spill from her eyes.

"I didn't know. I thought-" Brittany made an anxious noise in her throat and reached out for Santana's hand, but stopped short. "I didn't _know." _

"Yeah, well," Santana sniffed, "you can be a little slow sometimes." When Brittany flinched, Santana softened. "But I didn't know for a long time either. Not until Christmas Eve." She wiped at her eyes. "So- that's the truth," Santana concluded, trying unsuccessfully to keep her voice even.

"Santana, I'm so sorry," Brittany said urgently, and she placed a hand on Santana's arm. Santana nodded again. She moved to get up.

"I should go," she said unsteadily.

"But-"

"Just -I need to go do... stuff. Family stuff." She scrambled off the bed and nearly ran to the door. When she got there, though, she couldn't help turning back. "Best friends, right?"

Brittany sat miserably on the bed. "Best friends. Forever," she added in a whisper.

Santana managed a watery smile. "I'll bring your gloves to school on Monday." Then she slipped out the door.


	16. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who is still reading/reviewing/favoriting/alerting this story! I know it's taking ages but I plan to see it through to the end.

* * *

1. Monday

Karofsky and Azimio strolled down the hall side by side, moving the masses of students out of their way by their combined powers of sheer intimidation and even more sheer intimidation. Every now and then there would be one clueless kid who wouldn't be paying attention, but it just meant that kid would actually deserve the locker imprint he'd get on his face.

On his camcorder screen, Jacob watched as the president of the McKinley High School Project Runway Club abruptly stopped in the middle of talking about Lima Fashion Week and backed out of the frame.

Jacob knew when to trust his finely-honed journalistic instincts. He immediately crouched into a ball behind the nearest student, shielding his camera with his body. When a few seconds passed and he felt no slaps upside the head, he sighed in relief and looked up to see Lauren Zizes rolling her eyes at him.

Lauren frowned as she watched a path open up in front of the two dumb jocks all the way to the end of the hallway, as if created by an invisible force field. It was pathetic really, the way other students kowtowed to them. It was also frankly unfair that Lauren, a champion wrestler and leader of students (geeky ones, but still), did not receive nearly as much kowtowing as she had earned. She was about to turn back to her locker in disgust when an odd-looking figure stepped in front of Karofsky and Azimio and blocked their way.

The person wore a baggy red hooded track jacket with the hood pulled up, red track pants, and, disturbingly, a rubber mask bearing the image of one Sue Sylvester. Before anyone could figure out what this strangely-dressed person was doing, he or she had tossed two ice-cold slushies straight at Karofsky and Azimio.

There was a shocked silence, then the halls erupted.

"Who did that? Come back here freak!"

"Did you see that?"

"Who was that masked slushier?"

"Karofsky and Azimio just got slushied!"

"I didn't know people could do that!"

The outburst brought teachers out into the hallway. "Hey, hey, everyone calm down! What's going on here?" shouted Mr. Schuester. Karofsky, still slushie-blinded, grabbed onto a hapless student, who slipped on the slush puddle and dragged both Karofsky and Mr. Schuester down with him. A girl screamed, and people began to push away from the pile-up.

"Students!" Principal Figgins fought through the crowd. "Cease this madness at once!"

In the ensuing mess, the tracksuited slushier slipped away, nearly unnoticed.

Jacob lowered his camera and pumped his fist. "Yes! The _McKinley Enquirer_ can go suck it, 'cause JBI's got the scoop- hey!"

Lauren plucked the camera from his hands, ignoring his halfhearted attempts to retrieve it. "I'm just going to take a look at this first." She threw a meaningful glance in the direction the slushier had run. Jacob followed her gaze and nodded.

* * *

2. Tuesday

Rachel was at her locker when something very, very bright approached from her left. Rachel turned her head, blinked and did a double-take at Brittany, who stood there smiling. Over her usual Cheerios ensemble, Brittany had added a tie-dyed neon rainbow t-shirt, rainbow arm warmers, and a rainbow bandana tied around her head. She had also attached rainbow triangle and rainbow flag pins to her backpack.

"Hi Rachel." Brittany smiled. "I hope you noticed my outfit. I'm wearing it today in solidarity with all gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, queer, questioning, intersex, asexual, pansexual, and allied people."

"I assure you your support is loud and clear. Extremely loud, in fact." Rachel tried to focus on Brittany's face so as not to look directly at all the neon. "I'd like to say, it's wonderful that you're embracing the cause of LGBT visibility and rights. It's a very important issue for my family. When I was young my dads would often take me to a community center in Toledo, where I performed Barbra songs for an audience of activists and volunteers who, although appreciatively critical, were undoubtedly committed to – Brittany, are you listening?"

Brittany, whose gaze had wandered to a flickering fluorescent light bulb on the ceiling, focused again on Rachel. "Sorry. Yes, gay and lesbian and all those other rights are very important to me. Because girls who are in love with other girls deserve the right to have their sweet lady kisses without getting slushied in the hallway." Brittany paused and frowned, a dark look briefly crossing her face. "In fact, I'm starting a petition for a constitutional amendment to guarantee the right to sweet lady kisses. Or whatever sort of kisses boys give each other."

Rachel nodded seriously. "I completely agree with your sentiments, Brittany, if not the nuances of your constitutional philosophy."

Brittany looked blank for a moment. "Cool. So I thought you might want to join my GayLesbAll."

Rachel's mouth dropped open. "Your _what_?"

"It stands for Gay Lesbian Alliance. _Gay-Lesb-All_." Brittany offered her a flier.

"Yes, I realize that!" Rachel snatched the flier out of Brittany's hand. "What do you mean,_ your_ GayLesbAll?"

"We're going to have a meeting during lunch on Wednesday. So far I've got twenty people who've promised to be there."

"But- but when I proposed the _exact_ same thing last year nobody was remotely interested!"

"Last year the world was a totally different place. Times are changing." Brittany shrugged. "Also, I have a lot more friends than you do and I said there would be free pizza."

Rachel was slightly miffed by the slight to her popularity and the blatant bribery, as well as the fact that she hadn't thought of bribery first. But before Rachel could offer even a token protest, she saw a tracksuited Sue-masked person barreling right toward them, slushie in hand. She gasped dramatically.

"Brittany, duck!"

Brittany looked around. "Where?"

Rachel dropped into a crouch and pulled Brittany down with her. But the slushie-Sue ran right by them. Rachel and Brittany watched as the slushie-Sue dumped the neon green contents of a Big Quench cup over two unsuspecting guys in letter jackets and swiftly disappeared around a corner.

Rachel and Brittany stood up again, and Rachel awkwardly brushed imaginary dust off her skirt. Unperturbed, Brittany returned to the matter at hand. "Anyway, I would really like it if you could come to the meeting. You could talk about how you multiply life by the power of two gay dads."

Rachel brightened a little. "Well, even though my own GayLesbAll was obviously an idea ahead of its time, I'd love to come to your meeting and share my experience. In fact," she said, excitedly grabbing Brittany's arm, "let's have a tête-à-tête later to lay out an agenda!"

Brittany looked at Rachel's hand on her arm. "I'm sorry Rachel. I'm really flattered, but I think I shouldn't." Rachel looked puzzled. "I have a boyfriend," Brittany explained. She gave Rachel an apologetic smile and walked away.

(~)

"Did she tell you about the armpit thing?" Santana crossed her arms and stared at Artie intently. Artie's eyes darted back and forth, but there were no obvious escape routes, and no witnesses in case something terrible should happen to him in the empty classroom.

"As a matter of fact she mentioned it on our first date." Artie scratched his ear and looked uncomfortable. "It was... surprising. I'm not used to girls being that, um, forward."

"Well have you done it?"

"Done what?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Kissed her armpits."

"Well, I think that's between me and Brittany, so if you don't mind-"

"Look, I am trying to be _nice_ here and help you out with your _re-la-tion-ship_." Santana said the word like she had tasted something bad.

"Could've fooled me," Artie muttered. Louder, he said, "While I appreciate your assistance, it's clear now that I can in fact offer Brittany a lot more than 'super-choice parking.' And I think you'll understand if I doubt your intentions, considering you tried to break us up once already, and the buzz around school about you mackin' on my woman."

"Yeah, well, if you hadn't noticed, my _intentions_ have gotten me jack shit, because she is still wheeling your ass around." Santana threw up her hands in frustration and paced around in a circle. "There are things that I am good at," Santana began once she came back around to Artie. "Looking hot. Singing. Shoplifting. But Brittany wants a happy, _normal_ relationship. That's on you." She looked off to the side. "I'll stick with the things that I can do best."

"This seems unlike you, Santana..."

"I'm turning over a new leaf. But you had better go make sure she is as happy as she can possibly be or I will personally spike your tires every morning."

* * *

3. Wednesday

It wasn't often that Lauren had to leave class early, but one never knew when a debilitating _Mycobacterium lepraemurium_ infection would flare up, or so she would have her English teacher believe. But instead of heading to the nurse's office, she hid behind a doorway near the Big Quench machine. Sure enough, Slushie Sue rounded the corner, and stopped short when Lauren stepped out from behind the wall.

"I know who you are, and so does Jacob. We won't tell on one condition." When Slushie Sue tilted her head to listen, Lauren smiled deviously. "We want in."

After a long pause, Slushie Sue nodded.

(~)

In the choir room, Kurt swung his messenger bag off his shoulder and turned toward Mercedes. "Have you _seen_ what's going on out there? Those orangutans are actually afraid of this 'Slushie Sue Sylvester,'" he laughed. "They're walking around in garbage bags and rain ponchos. I need to take some pictures to post on the Project Runway Club's Blog of Shame."

"Yeah, but you know they're going to look for someone to scapegoat, and I'd rather it wasn't me, or you," said Mercedes. "Whoever's doing this, they had better be careful."

Sam chimed in. "I think it was Jimmy Spencer. Remember when Karofsky shoved a football in the his sousaphone and he spent the entire second half trying to get it out?"

"Nah," said Mike. "It's gotta be that kid Marco from my debate class. He's on the soccer team and got really worked up when Azimio said that soccer was 'gay football.' He's small and quick, too."

"Could be someone on the water polo team," said Finn. "Karofsky is always ragging on them in the locker room, about how Brokeback they look running around their Speedos." Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"I just hope they catch the creep," Quinn said, sounding annoyed. "Now that the Cheerios are getting hit, our dry cleaning bills are skyrocketing and Coach is riding me hard about it."

"Wanky," Santana said. She nudged Brittany, whose eyes had suddenly gone unfocused at Quinn's comment. "And you all are ridiculous gossips." She affected a high-pitched, overly excited voice. "_It was Mr. Green in the library with the candlestick!_"

"Mr. Green would never do that," Brittany said. "He's the awesomest math teacher."

Santana decided to explain later. "Anyway, I bet you fifty bucks you're all wrong."

"Santana, you of all people should be happy about the gossip, considering your inadvertent outing got knocked off the front page of Jacob's blog." Kurt said. He held up his phone. "Check it out."

* * *

_**JBI Breaking News Alert!**_

**Slushie epidemic hits McKinley's elite! Jocks and Cheerios cowering in fear!**

**Multiple "Slushie Sylvester" sightings reported**

**Principal Figgins to students: "Beware of slips and falls"**

**Opinion: Is this the beginning of a new order at McKinley?**

**Stay tuned to JBI for up-to-the-minute reports!**

* * *

4. Thursday

Most of the glee club was idly chatting before Mr. Schue arrived, when Artie rolled into the choir room looking shell-shocked.

"You look like a man who just escaped the mouth of a sarlacc," observed Sam.

Quinn tapped him on the leg. "I told you not to do that in public," she muttered.

"You guys, Santana is freaking me out," said Artie. "It's really disturbing."

"What happened?"

"Well..."

(~)

"Hey Artie. My mom sometimes gets freebies from people at her work, so I signed you up for a sensitivity training seminar. Saturday at 8 a.m., continental breakfast provided. Be there."

(~)

"Hey Wheels, you're using protection with Britt, right? 'Cause I know where to get stuff for free, no questions asked. What size do you need?"

(~)

"Hey Professor X, you got plans on Friday night?"

"Uh, not yet, but I'll prob-"

"Good, then I know this place that would be perfect for an Artittany date. Already made reservations and planned your itinerary for the evening. You can pick up your outfit after school tomorrow."

(~)

Everyone was stunned silent. Finally Tina said, "No offense Artie, but... it's probably a good thing she's picking your clothes."

Artie looked indignant. "That's not the point."

"Brittany's been acting kind of strange too," said Quinn.

(~)

"Quinn, guess what." Brittany ran up to her, the tied ends of her rainbow headband bouncing behind her. "Coach Sylvester said we could do a pride cheer!"

"A pride cheer?"

"Yeah, like gay pride. I thought she would say no," Brittany explained, "but then I told her about the part with the flaming rainbows, and she agreed." She bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. "Don't worry, I have it all planned out. Here," Brittany handed her a index card. "It's a diagram." On the card, Brittany had drawn a stick-figure Cheerio flying through the air into the waiting arms of fellow stick-figure Cheerios, with a rainbow arc trailing behind. "I still have to work out some of the details."

(~)

"On second thought," Quinn considered, "that actually seems pretty normal for Brittany." Everyone nodded and made noises of agreement.

"But I could really use some help getting Santana off my back," said Artie. "Is there anyone who she'd bother listening to for more than fifteen seconds at a time?"

"Well-" started Finn.

"Besides Brittany," Artie clarified. "She thinks it's great that Santana's so helpful."

All were silent.

"Mercedes will talk to her," Tina finally said. "What? You love getting involved in other people's problems."

Everyone looked at Mercedes, who shrugged. "Fine, I will."

(~)

Santana was on her way to Glee when, just outside the door, Mercedes grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her aside.

"Excuse you bit- oh it's you. Weezy, you never told me you liked it _rough_." She raised one eyebrow wickedly.

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Santana, what is wrong with you lately?"

Brittany appeared out of nowhere and wedged herself between Mercedes and Santana. She peered down at Mercedes and crossed her rainbow-bedecked arms. "There's nothing _wrong_ with Santana. She's beautiful and wonderful just the way she was born and if you can't accept that-"

"Uh, Brittany, it's cool," Santana stepped around Brittany, looking both exasperated and pleased. "Let me just talk to Mercedes for a minute." Brittany walked away reluctantly, but not before making an "I'm watching you" gesture at Mercedes, who pursed her lips and then continued.

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but you two are both acting like Bizarro World Santana and Brittany. Since when were you an Artittany fan? And since when is Brittany a crusader for gay rights?"

"She loves rainbows, okay? And anyway, Britts and I are friends again, and I don't want to do anything to mess it up, _again_. We're just trying to be supportive of each other. That's what friends do."

"Well, the rest of the glee club has asked me to ask you if you could tone it down a little, because it's kind of creeping people out." Mercedes noticed something on Santana's shoes. "Say, you have ice on your kicks."

Santana's eyebrows lifted in surprise and she looked down. "Oh yeah. One of those Slushie Sues ran by, just got some of the splashback." She brushed by Mercedes and entered the room. "Come on, let's go sing. Best part of my day and all that."

* * *

5. Friday

"So this guy goes, 'You don't _need_ an appointment at Supercuts!'" Azimio recounted. The two fawning sophomore girls with them giggled. Karofsky chuckled a little and rubbed the back of neck while Azimio's laughter echoed down the empty hallway.

Then a masked figure wearing a red tracksuit stepped in front of them holding two slushies, and they stopped in their tracks. Karofsky sneered. "Oh no, you're not pulling that on us twice in one week-"

The slushies hit him and Azimio square in the face, and the girls shrieked at the side-splash hit them. Karofsky wiped the slush out of his eyes and stepped forward, and the slushier dropped the empty cups and took off running. With a roar, Karofsky, Azimio, and the two girls started after the perpetrator.

(~)

Brittany lingered alone in the Cheerios locker room after practice, slowly changing out of her uniform. Cheerios was still fun, but it wasn't the same without Santana. Somehow it seemed like she was more tired afterward than she used to be, or maybe it wasn't as exciting to come back to the locker room without Santana beside her complaining about Sue's drills. Wearily, Brittany pulled off her uniform top and reached into her locker for her shirt.

Just then someone came crashing through the locker room door, breathing hand, and froze in place seeing Brittany standing there clutching her Cheerio top against her chest.

"Coach Sylvester?" Brittany stared at the track-suited figure in front of her. Coach Sylvester's face looked kind of weird... plastic-like. Also, she seemed smaller than usual. "Coach, you don't seem yourself." Plastic Coach Sylvester moved her head as if taken aback.

"I need to hide." Coach Sylvester sounded an awful lot like Santana. Then she pulled at her neck and peeled off her face... oh. After removing the mask, Santana started to pull off the red tracksuit. "If anyone asks, I'm not here."

"What? I don't-"

"_Brittany-_" Santana cut her off with an impatient whisper. "I've been slushying them all week. They'll murder me if they find out." Brittany's eyes widened.

"Gimme," Brittany said, holding her hand out for the incriminating items. She stuffed the mask and the tracksuit in her locker and slammed it shut, just as voices were heard through the door. Santana glanced toward it in panic and started moving as if to run away, but she ran straight into Brittany, who grabbed Santana to keep her upright.

"Move!-" whispered Santana. But the door was already opening and the voices were clearer.

"He can't have gone far," said Karofsky.

Brittany grabbed Santana by the shoulders and shoved her up against the lockers. "Don't worry," Brittany whispered.

"Britt," Santana whispered weakly, her eyes full of confusion. "What-"

Brittany pushed her body against Santana's and kissed her. Santana stiffened, but then, as if by muscle memory, her hands reached out to rest on Brittany's bare lower back. Brittany slid one leg between Santana's, thumping her knee lightly against a locker, and one hand pulled Santana's hips even closer to her.

"Hot damn!" Azimio hollered. Brittany and Santana jumped apart, panting, to see Karofsky, Azimio, and the two girls staring at them, all slush-stained. Brittany crossed her arms over her chest and looked guilty.

"Oh my god, that is so gross," one girl said. The other made a gagging noise.

"This is the girls' locker room," Santana managed to say, even though her heart was about to beat itself right out of her rib cage. "Get the hell out."

"Hey, _ladies_. Did you see one of those Slushie Sues run by?"

Brittany shook her head no. "We were... busy," she said. "Please don't tell anyone you saw us." She looked pleadingly at the four intruders, and shot Santana a glance. Santana furrowed her eyebrows slightly. The other two girls exchanged smirks.

"Let's go look around," said one. They split up and headed for different parts of the locker room, while Azimio and Karofsky stayed and leered. Instead of punching them both in the face, Santana picked up Brittany's discarded shirt and draped it over Brittany's front.

The two girls came back empty-handed. "No sign of anyone, except these two."

Karofsky shook his head. "Well then, I guess that can only mean one thing." He locked eyes with Santana. "He must have gone past to the gym." He walked out of the room, and the others followed.

"Man, that was kinda hot," Azimio said as the door swung closed.

Santana gaped at Brittany, who was still hugging her arms over her chest. "You didn't have to do that. You shouldn't have done that."

Brittany shrugged, staring at the floor. "Friends help each other."

"By making out with them?" Santana laughed ruefully. "They'll think you're a lesbian."

"I don't care about that."

"Or bisexual. A _slutty_ bisexual." Santana's tone got a little harder.

"I don't _care_." Brittany responded with a matching edge.

"Britt, listen to me. You saw those two, they're going to spread it everywhere. Everyone'll think you're cheating on Artie. He's going to find out."

This time Brittany paled a little, but she looked up, directly into Santana's eyes.

"It was worth it."


End file.
